


A Thousand Notes in the Making

by ImaginationCubed



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Los Angeles, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Musician Keith (Voltron), New York City, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Professional Musician AU, Recreational Drug Use, References to Addiction, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2019-12-30 00:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaginationCubed/pseuds/ImaginationCubed
Summary: If someone had told Keith that spending his early adolescence playing guitar until his fingers bled would lead to him having a suddenly explosive career, constant cameras in his face, a break down in front of tabloids and paparazzi, and being extremely sick of the sound of his own voice, then maybe he would've tried a different way to earn some cash in his youth. Don't let anyone in. That was the rule to live by. After all, it only took one person to break him the first time around.They told Lance to never meet his idols, they were only an illusion of cameras and scripts. Each and every time he would insist Keith wasn't like that. Now, even after receiving an in-person confirmation of each and every one of Keith’s demons, and seeing just how ready the Twenty-Seven Club was to sink its teeth into him, somehow, Lance would tell them the same thing. Especially when Keith is so willing to help Lance go from unknown performer to rising star faster than he ever imagined.From day one Keith warned him fame ruins people. But Lance swore up and down that would never happen to him. It couldn't, he was too careful.Right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my amazing beta [EcstaticAce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecstaticace) for agreeing to check over another fic for me. I'm so super excited to share this fic with everyone! The amazing [BansheeBender](https://twitter.com/bansheebender/) has been illustrating for this au over the past month, so also a huge thanks to her. Please check out both of their accounts because these two people helped make this fic possible!

_ “You’re just like a pill _

_ You get me so high _

_ But it’s always downhill _

_ Because baby tonight you’re my bad guy” _

 

Keith leaned his head into the window, pressing his cheek absentmindedly into the retractable glass. “Would you mind changing the station?”

“What’s the matter? I thought everyone was into this guy’s stuff lately.” The driver reached for the knob and twisted it slightly.

Keith pulled the hood of his jacket further over his head and readjusted the black face mask he kept over his mouth and nose. The cooler months and city atmosphere at least came with the added benefit of being able to use even more accessories to hide his appearance from passersby. The extra piece of cloth held on his face by his ears came with the bonus of letting him wander the streets of New York City on his own for a bit before he was off to his next show.

“Hm, it’s more complicated than that.”

“What? Does your girlfriend Iike him a bit too much?” The driver joked with a small laugh, “Trust me, I get it. My girl is  _ obsessed _ with him right now. She begged me for a pair of tickets to his concert on Friday. He’s playing MSG. It cost me a fortune to score a pair in the lower bowl. Ten minutes into presales and sections A and B were already several hundred dollars. He played the PlayStation Theater last night too. I swear, every place is scrambling to get him to play. Sometimes, I wonder what it’s like to be that famous.”

Keith replied with little inflection to his voice, “I’d think it’s stressful.”

“Yeah, but think of how cool it would be for everyone to look up to you like that. I mean, Keith really has an influence.”

“One mistake, and cameras are in your face about it though.” Keith flicked a message from Pidge off his notifications. Knowing her, it was yet  _ another _ message telling him how he’s not allowed to get into any trouble while he was out. As if he was going to cause shit while he made the best use of his time. It was either he used his few nights off to  _ finally _ explore New York City, or he sat around cooped up in his hotel room until he was off to Newark for another exhausting event.

He’d learned his lesson during his last tour. Walking out to go sightseeing in Houston after having one too many and needing Pidge to pick him up from a police station was not his best moment. Though, to be fair, it was nowhere near his worst either. But, Pidge made it clear last tour that there was a bar to be met, and it was  _ not _ cross faded and falling over on stage. So, he wasn’t allowed to argue that point anymore ever since she made a point to buy an iron bar and place it high up on his tour bus with a large label reading ‘the bar’.

Besides, tonight wasn’t about any of that. At the absolute most,  _ maybe _ a quick lay was in order, but the real goal was to actually see some of the world famous city. As much as certain people didn’t believe him.

The driver slowed to a halt. “And we’re here.” 

Keith glanced at the fare and dug it out of his wallet, adding an extra fifty on top of what was due. 

“You put an extra fifty in—“

“Keep it. I don’t need it.” Keith replied as he opened the taxi car door.

“You’re a good kid. What did you say your name was again?”

Keith stepped out of the vehicle and lifted his mask down towards his chin. “Keith.” The fabric snapped back up as he waved his goodbye. He pulled the hood further over his head again and weaved his way into the moving crowd. The area was still brightly lit but lacked the distraction of the changing adverts the five story stores Times Square had a pleasure of showing him. If he had been in more favorable circumstances, maybe he would’ve been able to visit the top ‘to dos’ in the city. But, due to the fact that he was currently one of the most publicly recognizable people in modern culture, that idea was swept off the table before it had even had a chance to be thought over. 

Keith sunk his hands into his jacket pockets as his feet carried him over large expanses of sidewalk. If one thing had held true so far, it was the fact that the city had a very active nightlife. Purple eyes glanced towards a standing chalkboard decorated with string lights: live music. A drawn arrow pointed towards a set of stairs with a half-open door at the end. 

If he couldn’t check out the ‘must sees’ of the area, he might as well visit some of the other locations, right?

Keith traveled down the concrete steps. Letting the door swing behind him, he came face to face with a tall, muscular man. 

“ID?”

Fuck.

He pulled out a twenty alongside his state ID. “Don’t say anything, alright? I’m not looking for any commotion, I promise.”

The bouncer flashed him a friendly smile. “Didn’t think big names liked to hang out with us normal people.”

“Yeah… Kinda here for a few days. Thought I’d see if New York lived up to the hype.” Keith pulled the mask further up his face, as if he could hide behind it completely. Retrieving his ID, he wandered further inside, silently hoping he could have at least one normal night while he was here. He curled his shoulders inwards, tucking his head closer to his chest. The place was nothing like some of the places he’d seen on his numerous excursions, lacking the loud overcrowded atmosphere he’d grown used to very quickly, but it was by no means dead. Groups of people sat contently by the small stage. 

It reminded him of the real early days of his career, back when he was desperate enough to play venues for whatever scraps were offered to him. The amount of times he’d found himself on a stage just like that, elated at the opportunity for a free meal or lodging in exchange for his music was a bit pathetic in retrospect. 

He took a seat at the bar, drumming his fingers against the wooden surface as he zoned in on the small performance taking place. A young brunet sat on a stool, one leg perched up on one of the bars between the legs, raised just enough to rest the worn acoustic guitar on his denim-clad thigh. Sharp cheekbones were highlighted by each movement of his face as his blue eyes illuminated with every soothing note that left his mouth and into the standing microphone. Each word seemed so passionate and served of a real reminder of Keith’s increasing want to hear the man’s voice as he left marks over the perfect exposed skin the peaked through the loose fitting baseball shirt. 

Or how those pretty blue eyes would look from above as Keith watched him work on his knees.

Keith waved the bartender over, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the performer. “Who’s he?”

Her short brown hair bounced as she turned towards him. “Lance.”

“Is he here often?” He flicked his eyes back over to Lance before forcing himself to make eye contact with the bartender.

“I don’t know.” She gave him a playful smile. “Why do you wanna know?”

Keith pointedly looked away. “Does it matter?”

“Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t.” She shrugged, refusing to wipe the smile off her face. “I just don’t see too many people your age coming in here, sitting at a bar, and not even ordering a drink. You’re just different, that’s all.”

“Will you stop judging me if I order something?” Keith asked, a hint of annoyance entering his tone.

“I don’t care what you do. I was just saying you’re not my everyday customer.”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll have an old fashioned.” His mind briefly wandered back to Pidge’s text. 

One drink wouldn’t kill him.

“Coming right up.” The bartender slid him his drink when she finished. “He’s here at least once a week, by the way. Usually twice.”

Keith removed the cloth mask from his face and sipped at the liquid presented to him. “Does he want to be a professional musician?”

“One of the city’s struggling artists.”

Keith tipped back the glass, downing the contents inside. “Been there. Not fun.”

“Judging by how fast you finished that drink I’m assuming your life isn’t that fun either.” She flashed him the beginnings of a frown. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. Can I have another though?” If he was going to drink, he might as well get a buzz going.

“Sure.” She moved away briefly to prepare his drink before handing it to him.

“Thanks.” Keith lifted the glass to his lips.

“So what brings an attractive young guy in here by himself in the first place? Don’t you have friends to hang out with instead?” She asked.

“I’m visiting.”

“Skipping Times Square?”

“Yeah.”

“Good choice. It’s overrated.” 

Keith glanced at the half empty glass in front of him. “Good to know.” 

“So, why a bar of all places?” She asked as she wiped down an empty glass. 

“The sign said live music.” Keith took another sip of his drink, relishing in the warm fuzziness blossoming under his skin. “I thought I’d check it out.”

She laughed. “Glad we’re that interesting.” 

Keith finished off the last of his drink. “Do you have anything unique here?”

“You mean drink-wise?”

“Yeah.” His eyes wandered back to Lance.

“Well, we have this shot called Naxela. It’s really strong though. You have to like alcohol that burns to appreciate it.”

“I’ll try it.” 

The bartender turned away for a brief moment, then placed a shot glass in front of him. “You can blame my brother for this one existing. He came back real heartbroken about a girl and decided mixing everything we had left in the apartment would be a good idea. Turned out it was. Somehow.”

Keith tipped back the glass, letting the contents escape down his throat. He drummed the pads of his fingers against the polished wood surface, a large part of him begged for another. The familiar burn was oddly soothing.

A smile graced his features. “Tell your brother he did a good job.” 

“I’ll pass it on.” 

He folded his arms onto the counter and leaned his weight into it. “Can I get another?”

“Coming right up.”

“I’m Lance Serrano.” Keith’s eyes locked to the man on stage as he announced the end of his small performance. “If anyone’s interested, I’m selling CDs tonight too. So, come talk to me if you want one. Thanks for listening.” Lance hopped off the stool and knelt down to quickly pack up his instrument before stalking towards the bar.

“You’re doing great, Lance. How have the CD sales been going tonight?” The bartender asked, a vibe of familiarity entering her interactions.

Lance frowned. “I only sold two before the show.”

“Cheer up. I’m sure next week will start off better.” She leaned in closer to him, lifting a hand to block the view of her mouth from her customers. “If it helps, that cute guy over there has been checking you out since he walked in.”

He sighed, “I don’t know. Isn’t that rebounding?”

“Jenny’s not coming back. You’re allowed to at least chat with him. Flirting never hurt anyone.” The bartender encouraged.

“I am  _ Loverboy Lance _ .” Lance joked, a small smile creeping up on his face, “So, is there any chance a little brother can score a free drink?”

“Not on the job.” 

Lance’s lips turned into a pout. “Not even  _ one _ drink?”

“Nope.” She replied, “Come back when you’re twenty-one.”

“You suck.” Lance said with a roll of his eyes.

“I try.”

“Well, wish me luck.” Lance turned toward the remaining customer at the bar. “I’m on my way to talk to a cute guy.”

She gave him a small pat to his shoulder. “Go get ‘em.”

Keith slid from his chair and stepped over, hand shuffling around in an attempt to find his back pocket. He stopped abruptly when Lance intercepted his travels, taking a moment to regain his proper balance.

“Hey.” Lance greeted, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, “Have you been around here before?”

Keith shook his head. “You’ve got a nice voice though. I’d like to see some of those CDs if you’d let me.”

“Oh… Oh! Of course, yeah. Here—” Lance quickly reached into his bag and pulled out a CD case. 

Keith patted down his pants again before pulling out his wallet a tad sluggishly. He flipped it open and handed Lance a single bill.

Lance glanced at the green paper, eyes widening. “Woah, look, I don’t charge  _ this _ much.”

Keith shrugged casually. “Keep it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Wow, thanks.” Lance stashed the bill into his pants pocket. “So, what borough are you from?”

“I’m just visiting.” Keith waved the bartender over, ordering another drink before turning his focus back to Lance. “Want one?”

“Me?” Lance pointed to himself.

“I don’t see any other hot guys talking to me.” Keith said with a hint of laughter.

“Oh! Then, sure.”

Keith turned around briefly, ordering another drink. He handed one to Lance, then brought the other to his lips, emptying the contents quickly. 

“I never got your name.” Lance took a sip before continuing. “I think that’s pretty important. I mean, I need to call you something in my contacts.”

A snicker escaped Keith, “It’s Keith.”

Blue eyes widened for a split second. Lance shook his head and steadied the smile on his face. “Lance.”

Keith placed the glass back down and planted a hand on the bar to support himself. “You’re really nice to listen to.”

Lance let out a small laugh, “Are you sure you’re doing alright there?”

Keith nodded insistently. “I’m fine, good, perfect, top notch, on top of the world.”

“If you say so.” Lance lifted his hand, letting it naturally seek out Keith’s arm before retracting it abruptly at the last moment.

Keith confidently placed a hand on Lance’s forearm, words slurring as they exited his mouth. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t know, you’re drunk. I don’t want to cross any boundaries.” Lance gently moved his arm away from Keith’s touch.

Keith sloppily pressed a finger to Lance’s face, almost missing his lips. “Shhh, I’m not drunk.” He leaned towards the direction of the bartender, placing another order for two before turning back to Lance. “What’s your favorite drink? I’ll get it for you.”

“I’m good.” Lance declined politely, “I still need to go home tonight.”

“Fuck.” The light drained from Keith’s eyes as he plopped into the stool behind him. “Pidge is going to be pissed. She’s going to tell Shiro I was drinking, and he’s going to be upset too.”

“Hey man, it’ll be okay. I’m sure they’ll all understand. You’re an adult, right?” Lance assured.

“But I’ll go to the hotel, and Pidge will know. Then Shiro’s going to know too. I told Shiro I wasn’t drinking on tour this time. I don’t want him mad at me. He keeps trying, and I keep fucking up.” Keith swiped the glass from the counter and swallowed the contents. He reached for the second one before Lance gently slid it out of reach. 

“Hey, V.” 

The bartender moved her attention away from the customer she was speaking to. “Hm?”

“I think he’s had enough. No more for him.” Lance advised before turning back to Keith. “How are you feeling?”

“Suddenly, like shit.”

A frown etched itself on Lance’s features. “How about you come back to my apartment? No one has to know you were drinking then. It’ll be our secret.”

Keith’s eyes filled with awe. “You’d… you’d do that?”

“Of course I would.” Lance took both of Keith’s hands into his own, fighting the nervous tremors ripping through them. He pulled the other man to his feet playfully, catching Keith in his arms and chest after the other man’s inevitable loss of balance.

Keith wrapped his arms around Lance, securing his place with his new acquaintance as he laid the side of his head on the shoulder presented to him. “You’re so nice. Too nice. Too nice to me.”

Lance ran his fingers over Keith’s hood, careful not to disturb its place on his head. “Don’t say that.”

“But everyone sucks.”

“You know, I’m part of everyone.”

“But you’re a good everyone.” Keith insisted, burying his face further into Lance’s shoulder. Maybe everyone would be mad at him in the morning, but Lance wouldn’t. 

“If you say so.” Lance gently broke from Keith’s embrace. “So, if you wanna make it back to my apartment, you’re gonna have to act sober. Can you do that?”

Keith nodded. He carefully placed one foot in front of the other, attempting to keep his balance as he fought off the spinning world. He repeated the action, managing to make it towards the bartender. Handing her a gross overpayment, he turned back to Lance and instinctively held onto the other man to keep his balance.

“Does it help to hold onto me?”

He nodded, steadying himself by linking his arm with Lance’s.

“Alright, then I’m gonna walk as slow as I can without it looking like you’re drunk. I live in Queens, so we need to get to the subway, then you can sit down. It shouldn’t be that busy right now.” Lance instructed, “Make sense?”

“Yeah.”

Lance waved goodbye to the bartender and guided Keith out the door and up the stairs. “So, the closest subway with the line we need is going to be two blocks to our right from here.”

Leaning his weight into Lance he moved along with him, barely managing to keep up with the set pace as the moving world and his gut screamed at him to stop. When they reached the top of the staircase, he found himself carefully navigating each step, as if the floor would no longer be there at a moment’s notice.

Lance pulled a small card from his wallet, swiping it through the large turnstyle and helping Keith through before repeating the action for himself.

“So we just need to wait until the next subway comes, then we’re riding it to Queens. My apartment is only about a block from there. How are you doing?” Lance asked.

Keith’s stomach twisted. A hand flew to his mouth, and he shoved Lance to the side as he leaned his weight into a pillar and voided the contents of his stomach onto the concrete floor. The backsplash decorated his hoodie with splatters of bodily fluid.

Lance sighed. “I guess that’s enough of an explanation.” He rubbed Keith’s back soothingly as the other man let out a small noise of discomfort. “Just a little longer. You’ve got this.”

A loud roar shook the underground room, emphasizing the unsteady atmosphere. Before his senses could agree to it, he was back on his feet, stumbling toward a set of open double doors. He plopped down into the closest empty seat and quickly searched for Lance’s warmth and falling into it.

“Almost there, buddy.” Lance assured with an affectionate rub to Keith’s arm.

The thud of the train meeting train tracks echoed in the otherwise silent atmosphere. The repetitive sounds continued for the trip’s entirety.

For some people, the idea of sleep while traveling brought uncomfortable levels of anxiety. But, there was something familiar, even oddly comfortable about the scenario. It was almost as if he was back on his tour bus riding to the next city and having a whole ten hours to himself again. Though, this was nicer. Every tour seemed to get increasingly more lonely, especially when Pidge had recently informed him she wouldn’t be able to make every performance this time around.

Playful pokes from Lance kept his consciousness alive, avoiding the single remaining thread connecting him to reality from being broken. A firm nudge pulled him from his trance-like state.

“This is our stop.” Lance informed, helping Keith to his feet and on his way to the streets of Queens.

A quick buzz into the building and an uneventful trip up the elevator found the duo in front of a wooden door. Maneuvering Keith’s hold on his arm, Lance shuffled the contents of his pockets around until he pulled a key into plain sight. He pressed the key into the lock and turned it. Lance jiggled the knob once. Then twice. “Sorry. Sometimes it sticks. Gimme a sec.” He pressed his free shoulder into the door and forced the hunk of wood to swing open.

Keith stumbled inside. “Which room?”

“Oh, mine is the one on the end. The one to the right is my sister’s room. The left is the bathroom.” Lance pointed to each room as he spoke. 

Keith stopped in front of Lance’s room. “This one?”

“Yeah.” Lance stepped forward and opened the door. “You can have my bed. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

“You’re not going to stay?” Keith frowned, his body deflating and words slurring.

“I don’t want you to think I’m trying anything.” Lance insisted, “You’re hot, trust me. But I don’t sleep with drunk people. I mean, if you’re still interested in the morning when you’re sober, who am I to say no, but—”

“‘S okay.”

“It’s really not.” Lance stepped forward. “But, either way I  _ really _ don’t want the vomit sweatshirt in my bed.” 

Purple eyes gazed up at him pleadingly. “But I want you to stay.”

“Compromise. I’ll stay in the bed with you, but nothing happens between us. Deal?”

Keith nodded.

“Alright. Then, arms up. We’re taking off the vomit sweatshirt.” Keith lifted his arms, and Lance pulled the clothing over the other man’s head, accidentally taking the shirt underneath with it. “Sorry.”

Keith shook his head, pushing the fabric back into Lance’s hands and kicking off his shoes. After a few long moments, he managed to struggle out of his pants and lie back onto the mattress.

Lance let the beginnings of a small smile pull at his lips before stripping down to his boxers and tossing the stray fabric along his bedroom floor. He lifted the comforter and sheets, slipping himself underneath. “Are you just going to lie on top of everything? Or are you going to actually get in the bed?”

Keith kicked his feet, ruffling the sheets until he could wiggle underneath them. He rolled onto his side and slipped his arms around Lance’s waist. Pressing his head against Lance’s chest he relaxed into the comforting body heat, letting his eyes slip closed peacefully. 

* * *

Purple eyes slid open to a spinning world. He cursed the horrid rays of sunlight pouring into the room and attempted to throw the covers over his head to shield himself. When his body refused to let sleep take him once more he groggily kicked off the sheets.

He begged his body and mind to sync together. He was topless, pantsless save for the boxers that kept him from being fully exposed.

Where the fuck was he? He patted around him for his phone, unable to find it in reach. Fuck. 

What did he do?

He sat up, suffering through the unwanted stars in his vision. His clothes lay scattered among others on the unfamiliar floor. His hoodie remained in a crumpled ball with dried vomit splattered across it. 

He leaned over and retrieved his phone from it, quickly searching for his missed notifications.

Four missed calls. Each from Pidge.

Fuck.

He glanced around the room, attempting to form some sort of idea of where he was or how he got there. Parts of it were in disarray, skin care products remained open and in no particular order on the dresser with a half-open drawer. The walls were decorated with a variety of posters. One of  _ The Kerberos Mission _ , a promo poster from the band’s last album release. Another featuring the show  _ The Kral Zera _ . Then, in the corner, a large framed photo hung with a musician passionately singing into a microphone on stage. Below it were a few smaller photos and posters, each with the same musician. One was an enlarged album cover, and the other was a poster that his marketing team had sent out to his certified fan list. Wait—

That was him.

He was in a fan’s room.

Did he have sex last night?

Did he have sex with a  _ fan _ last night?

Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He needed to get out of here. He swung to his feet, welcoming the unpleasant stars back into his vision. 

His mind screamed at him, and his gut twisted.

Oh no. He was going to puke. He didn’t even know where this person’s bathroom was, and he was about to puke. Purple eyes quickly scanned the room, stopping at the sight of a trash can. He barreled toward it, voiding the last of what was in his body into the container.

He’d have to leave this guy money for a new one.

A knock sounded at the door.

Oh no. He wasn’t even alone. 

His eyes flicked to the window. He could climb out of it, right? It couldn’t be too far up to jump. 

“Hey, Keith? Are you alright?” A familiar voice said from across the wooden barrier between them.

Fuck. 

He needed to face the consequences.

“I’m going to open the door, alright?” The knob turned and the door swung into the room, exposing the man he spoke to last night. Lance, if he remembered correctly. 

Keith sat back onto the floor, leaning against the bed frame. This was not his proudest moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a huge thanks to [Bansheebender](https://twitter.com/bansheebender/) for creating such amazing art for this fic, including this piece  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in strange rooms was unfortunately nothing new. But, a strange room that belonged to a stranger way too nice for his own good? Now that was new.

Lance filled the glass three-fourths of the way and shut off the faucet. He slid it in front of Keith and waited for him to drink. “I know you’re nauseous, but the only way to nurse a hangover is to hydrate. Trust me. My sister’s dealt with enough drunk people in her life, and well, enough drunk _me_ s.”

“Do you have a curtain for that window?” Keith groaned, hiding his head further into his folded arms, “The light really hurts.”

Lance stepped over to the window, drawing the small curtain.

“Thanks.”

“So…” Lance bit his lip and held his words for a moment. “You’re… you’re really here. In my apartment. In my kitchen.”

Keith groaned and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m here. I’m a person too, you know.”

“Yeah, but like, you’re _Keith_ .” Lance emphasized, “ _The_ Keith.”

He sunk his forehead further into the counter. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m really _really_ sorry. But, I need to scream.”

“Go for it.” Keith said with a tone of annoyance.

Lance let out a muffled scream, hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to not disturb the rest of the building. He turned in a circle, stomping his foot as he moved. Long fingers threaded through his hair, lightly squeezing at his scalp. “Oh my God. This is happening. This is real. Oh my God!”

Keith lifted his head from the island counter. “So, did it really take you until this morning to realize it was me?”

“Yeah, uh, no. So, I knew it was you really soon after we started talking. But, I kinda was doubting myself. I didn’t really think celebrities like, like _you_ came to places like my sister’s bar.” Lance gestured to Keith as he spoke.

“And you said nothing?” Keith raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“I mean, yeah?” Lance shrugged sheepishly. “You were drunk, and I didn’t wanna freak you out by thinking I was some crazed weirdo—”

“Even though you are?”

“Hey! I’m not a weirdo!”

“Mhm.” Keith dropped his head back onto the counter.

“Look, just ‘cause you’re cranky doesn’t mean you get to be mean to me.” Lance crossed his arms, tying the look together with a matching pout. “I saved you from the _real_ weirdos out there. I could’ve gone and begged you for an autograph. But, no, I talked to you like you were any other guy in the bar. _You_ were the one buying _me_ drinks.”

“Fine. You’re not a weirdo. Happy?”

“Why yes I am.” Lance flashed him a satisfied grin before sitting down across from him. “So, um, is it true you liked my singing? I mean, yeah, you bought the CD and everything, but you also could’ve just been being nice too. So, I don’t want to make any assumptions or anything…”

“Yeah.” Keith lifted his head again, bringing the glass to his lips and managing down some of the liquid. “I don’t lie about that stuff.”

Lance grabbed the sides of the counter in excitement. “Oh. My. God. You like my music!”

“Yeah, I bought the CD, didn’t I?”

“But you could’ve just been being nice.”

“Well, I said I wasn’t.” Keith forced down some more water. “Do you mind telling me what happened last night?”

“Whatcha need to know?” Lance folded his arms onto the table and leaned in closer.

“Things get fuzzy after I started buying you drinks.”

“Okay, well we talked a bit more. Then you got all worried about someone named Pidge being upset. Then you mentioned Shiro being upset too, so you got more upset. Then, I said you could come to my place so Pidge wouldn’t find out you were drinking. So, I walked you back, we took the subway, where you promptly threw up before the train’s arrival—Lucky for you, the subway is gross anyway—and then we got back here.”

“Did we fuck?”

“Oh God no. No way. Nuh-uh. Not that you’re not hot—no, you’re like a total ten out of ten, one hundred percent would bang. Not to be weird! But, like— _anyway_ , yeah. You were drunk, and I wasn’t going to take advantage of you like that.”

Keith remained silent for a long moment, silently gazing at Lance. His next words came out softly, almost at a whisper, as if what he heard was too absurd to be true, “Are you lying to me?”

“What? No!” Lance threw up his hands in mock defense. “I don’t take advantage of people like that. It’s wrong. All that happened was I tried to leave you in my bed, but you got upset, because you wanted me to stay. So, we just cuddled.”

Purple eyes darted towards the table. “Oh…”

Lance opened his mouth, then closed it before opening it again, “...Are you okay?”

Keith stayed silent for a moment, then spoke, “I need a drink.”

“It’s ten in the morning.”

“So? I don’t have a show tonight. It’ll get rid of this horrid hangover too.”

“More alcohol only prolongs the hangover.” A new voice entered the room.

Keith turned his attention towards the newcomer. Her hair was cut short above her shoulders, but fell below her chin, just like—

She was the bartender from last night.

Oh no. She was Lance’s sister.

He asked about her brother.

Oh God.

“Look at my little brother, winning all the hearts.” She joked, “Spoke to a guy for less than an hour, and he followed you home.”

“Veronica, this isn’t just _some guy_ this is _Keith_.” Lance pointed out, “Ya know, the singer.”

“Oh, you mean the one you have a crush on?” Veronica snickered.

“I do not have a crush! Have you never heard of being a fan?” Lance retorted.

“I love Acxa’s acting, but my room isn’t filled with pictures of her.” Veronica placed a k-cup into the keurig. “And _MFE_ is my favorite band, but I don’t have every special edition copy of their albums and the vinyls when we don’t have a record player.”

“Shut. Up.” Lance mumbled through his teeth.

“It’s fine.” Keith interrupted, “I’ve run into some pretty crazed fans in my life. This is actually… kinda nice.”

“Nice?” Lance quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know, you’re treating me like a _person_.” Keith shrugged. “It’s been a while since I could talk to someone who isn’t famous without trying to pretend I’m not myself.”

“Oh… well, then, I’m glad.” Lance rose from his chair and stalked towards the fridge. “So, um, can you tell me what it’s like to be a famous musician? If Veronica didn’t tell you last night, that’s why I’ve been performing.”

“It’s not for everyone.” Keith said, “If you’re not ready to give up any ounce of privacy, then you’re not ready to be famous.”

“This guy practically grew up on a stage.” Veronica chimed in, “He was the lead in every play he ever did and scored solo after solo in every choir he was in.”

“Don’t get me wrong. My heart’s in my music. It’s just… not what you’d expect sometimes.” Keith pressed the glass to his lips and took another sip. “Also, it gets really weird hearing yourself on the radio all the time. And your friends too.”

“You’re friends with Takashi Shirogane, right?” Lance asked earnestly, “He’s really amazing too.”

“Yeah. We go back a long time. I think we met when I was sixteen? I stayed on his tour bus with Matt during their _Gladiator_ tour.”

“During your hiatus?” Lance shook a box of saltines, wordlessly offering them.

Keith shook his head to decline. “Yeah, I was… switching producers around then.”

“That’s pretty cool. Who else do you know?” Veronica inquired.

“I _know_ a lot of people. But, if you mean who I _talk_ to, then Lotor Sincline, Acxa, James Griffin.” Keith bit his lip and flicked his eyes upwards in thought. “Do I talk to anyone else you two would know? There’s Krolia, but she’s my mom, so I don’t think that counts. Um, do you know the band _The Blade of Marmora_ ? I know them, but I talk to their frontman the most.” An insistent buzzing interrupted their conversation. Keith reached for the vibrating phone, flipping it over from its place on the table; large text on the top displayed a name, _Pidge_. “Fuck. She’s going to be pissed I didn’t come back last night.”

“Just tell her we fucked. Perfect excuse for staying over. We didn’t, but she doesn’t have to know that.” Lance suggested.

Keith glanced up at Lance. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Keith flashed him a thankful smile before swiping his finger across the screen and raising the phone to his ear. “Hey.”

“Oh, thank God you’re alive.” Pidge breathed a sigh of relief before continuing. “Where are you?”

“You know, just because I don’t pick up a call doesn’t mean I’m being a dumbass.”

“Does Houston mean anything to you?” Pidge said flatly.

Keith rolled his eyes. “One time.”

“One time _on this tour_.” Pidge reminded, “And that doesn’t answer my question of where you are.”

“Some guy’s apartment.” Keith answered nonchalantly.

“Some guy’s—why?”

“I got laid.”

“You do know I booked a hotel for you for a reason, right? Like, I don’t just do that because I’m bored.”

“This seemed more fun.” Keith replied.

“Why do you insist on making my job hard?”

“I don’t.”

“Mhm. Sure.” The sarcasm in her voice died before she continued, “Can you come back soon? New York City is really big, and you’re out there without a guide or a bodyguard. I don’t want anything happening to you. You don’t know who’s out there.”

“I really don’t think I need—” Keith protested.

“I know you don’t like the flashiness of a bodyguard. And I know you like to stay humble when you can, but right now, it’s about your safety.”

Keith resigned, “Okay.”

“Thanks, Keith. See you soon.”

“See you soon.” The call ended, and he placed the phone in his lap. “She wants me back at the hotel.”

Lance took a seat next to Keith. “Is she mad?”

“No. Just worried.” He rubbed at his temples for a brief moment. “I really should go back.”

“I can take you back.” Lance offered, “If she’s worried because it’s New York then I know my way around.”

“Are you sure? I can just get an uber.”

“Yeah, I don’t mind at all. Besides, you can see some more of the city before you go back too.”

Keith looked down at the counter, then breathed out a sigh. “I want to. But I need to get back sooner than later.” He glanced up at Lance. “Can you do me a favor though?”

“Sure.”

“Can you book the Uber for me? I’ll pay you back. I just want to avoid fans if I can right now.” Keith asked.

“Yeah, sure. I get it dude.” Lance whipped out his phone, tapping away at the screen, only pausing to ask Keith the address of his hotel.

“I’ll also pay for a new trash bin. I’m sorry for throwing up in it again.”

“Hey, don’t worry about. I can just change the bag and rinse it off. It’s not like you’re sick or something.”

“I really don’t mind. I feel bad.” Keith insisted.

Lance laid a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Really.”

Keith sighed defeatedly. “Fine. How much do I owe you for the Uber?”

Lance turned his phone screen over to Keith, showing him the numbers on display.

“Do you have Venmo or something?”

“Yeah. At Lance dash Serrano two.”

Keith tapped away at his phone, inputting Lance’s Venmo name into the app and transfering money. “Thanks again.”

“Yeah, no problem. You’re going to need some clothes, aren’t you?”

“No, I—” Oh yeah. His sweatshirt was covered in throw up.

“I can give you an old sweatshirt.” Lance offered, “I don’t mind. I don’t want you to get harassed if you can avoid it.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah. No problem. I’ll be right back.” Lance stepped into the other room and returned a minute later with an old university sweatshirt. He plopped it on the table in front of Keith. “Here. You can keep it.”

“No, no.” Keith shook his hands in disagreement. “Give me your number. I’ll wash it and give it back.”

“I…” Lance blinked a few times in a row before responding. “Are you sure?”

“Mhm.” Keith slid his phone in front of Lance. “Pidge can have someone take care of it for me and mail it back.”

Lance tentatively picked up the device from the table. Hesitantly, he punched his number into the contacts section of Keith’s phone and slid it back to the other man.

“I’ll have it back to you before the month is over. Promise.” Keith slipped the fabric over his head and pulled the hood up. He pulled the cloth mask out of his soiled sweatshirt and hooked it on behind his ears. Adjusting it so it covered as much as possible, he stood. “Thanks again.”

“Of course.” Lance gave him a smile.

Keith returned the act, hidden behind his layers. “By the way, I’ll listen to the CD when I have some time.”

Blue eyes widened. “Really?”

“Mhm.” Keith said with a nod, “I really think you’re talented. If I can, I’ll get back to you.”

Lance choked on his own excitement, barely managing to force the next words out. “Thanks.”

Keith gave him a quick nod and exited the apartment.

* * *

 

 

Lance (NYC)  
  
**Keith:** I wonder if it’ll change me/ But I guess that’s the point  
  
**Lance:** Excuse me?  
  
**Keith:** I think those ones are my favorite  
  
**Lance:**...Keith?  
  
**Keith:** Yeah. I said I’d listen to the CD, right?  
  
**Lance:**...Do you like it?  
  
**Keith:** Would I be texting you if I didn’t?  
  
**Lance:** Probably not. But who knows? I’m kinda cute. Maybe I’m your type.  
  
**Keith:** I think I made that horribly clear the other night.  
  
**Keith:** Very, very horribly clear  
  
**Lance:** Don’t feel bad. I’m just irresistible like that  
  
**Keith:** I don’t know. I think the attraction is fading right now.  
  
**Lance:** Rude  
  
**Keith:** I’m kidding. Anyway, I really do think your stuff is good.  
  
**Lance:** Thanks. That actually means a lot. Ngl I was nervous about you listening to it  
  
**Keith:** Don’t be. It’s good. You’re talented.  
  
**Lance:** Okay, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’m like really freaking out on my side of this screen. Like, I know you know I’m a fan, but I’ve been a huge fan for a long time. And now you’re telling me my music is good and that I have talent.  
  
**Keith:** Cause it’s true.  
  
**Lance:** See, you can’t just say that.  
  
**Keith:** Why not?  
  
**Lance:** Because you’re an internationally popular musician, and I’m a rando from Queens  
  
**Keith:** and I was a random kid from Arizona once and a band told me they liked my stuff  
  
**Lance:** Still…  
  
**Keith:** I’m serious. You’re good.  
  
**Lance:** … So you think I could be a professional musician?  
  
**Keith:** Yeah. I mean, you’d need a professional demo first, but yeah.  
  
**Lance:** Thanks… that means a lot.  
  
**Keith:** Anyway. You have my number. Text me again when you have a professional demo. I can send it to my producer.  
  
**Lance:** Oh my God. Thank you so much.  
  
**Keith:** Mhm  
  
**Lance:** Hey, so…  
  
**Lance:** I know this might be a bit weird but if you still wanted to see the city I don’t mind taking you   
  
**Keith:** You don’t have to  
  
**Lance:** But I want to  
  
**Keith:** Are you sure?  
  
**Lance:** Yeah! And I could show you some of the best places too. I’m better than a tour guide.  
  
**Lance:** We could grab a bite to eat too  
  
**Keith:** Like a date?  
  
**Lance:** No! No! Not a date! I’m not being weird, I promise  
  
**Keith:** Shame. You’re cute.  
  
**Lance:** IF YOU WANT IT TO BE A DATE IT CAN!  
  
**Lance:** Sorry!  
  
**Lance:** But it can be a date if you want! I just didn’t want to be weird.  
  
**Keith:** Not weird  
  
**Lance:** Then will I see you tomorrow?  
  
**Keith:** Pick me up at 11am  
  
**Lance:** I’ll be there  


Keith placed his phone onto his chest, letting the remnants of a smile tug at his features.

“Who’re you talking to?” Pidge stepped out from the bathroom clad in a tanktop and shorts. She wiped the lense of her glasses on the fabric of her shirt as she moved to sit on the other bed in the room.

Keith turned his head slightly to face her. “The guy from the other night.”

“Look at you. Talking to someone after you slept with them.” Pidge joked, “That’s new.”

“I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“You do have a record of loving and leaving while on tour.” Pidge reminded.

“Jokes on you. I have a date tomorrow.” Keith readjusted his position in his bed.

“You’re not going to another bar, right?”

“No.” Keith picked up his phone again. “Actually he’s taking me sightseeing.”

A smile crossed her face. “Well, look at you. Keith, master of love. Going on an actual date with someone. So, tell me about him.”

“His name’s Lance. He lives in Queens and wants to be a musician. He’s apparently a big fan, but—”

Pidge interrupted, “What did we say about sleeping with fans, Keith?”

“He’s not a groupie or anything.” Keith defended, “I didn’t even know he was a fan until the morning after.” He continued with a sigh, “And he treated me like a person too. Not like public property.”

Pidge frowned. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah… I just wonder what it would be like if I wasn’t a public figure sometimes. Everyone else gets to make mistakes, and people let it go. Whenever I mess up, it’s broadcasted everywhere. I just want to be able to go on a date and be left alone like everyone else.”

“People suck. Once you’re famous, they’re going to be in your business. I bet you I can find photos of Lotor from the day he started acting to now, and no one thinks that’s weird. Trust me. It’s weird to be able to find a stranger’s childhood photos online that easily.” Pidge fell back onto the rest of the mattress. “Matt’s a celebrity too, but you can’t find his childhood photos. Sure, you get his dumbass photos from five years ago, but not things from when he was actually a kid. You’re stronger than most of us Keith.”

“I still don’t have to like fifteen year old me with obnoxious eyeliner being all over the internet.” Keith said.

“No, you don’t. But, it’s your life either way.” Pidge said, “You can’t change that part.”

“Yeah, but it’d be nice if I could have an equal opportunity to have someone get to know me too. Everyone knows my business, but I don’t know their’s. How am I supposed to feel okay with that?”

“You’re not.” Pidge replied, “But if this guy isn’t rubbing you the wrong way then I think you’re okay. You have a good gut instinct.”

“Funny, because I still got myself stuck in all that shit with my old manager.”

“You learned from it. And you have a whole list of people willing to fight for you if he comes around again.” Pidge sat up. “It doesn’t say anything about you anyway. It only says something about him.” Kosmo planted his paws onto Keith’s bed, hoisting himself up and curling close next to him. “See, Kosmo says to stop worrying.”

Keith brushed his hand over Kosmo’s fur, settling by his pet’s ears and scratching continuously.

“I still can’t believe you picked up a random puppy from a gas station three years ago, and he still comes on tour with you.” Pidge leaned against the large array of pillows by the head of the bed. She flipped the cover off her iPad and whipped out her Apple Pencil from her pocket. “So, how do you feel about adding another stop to the tour?”

Keith quirked an eyebrow at her. “Where?”

“PNC Center. New Jersey.” She circled something on the screen. “It wouldn’t be until after all the dates in Connecticut, Pennsylvania, and upstate New York.”

Keith pressed the side of his face against Kosmo’s snout. “Are you sure that’s enough notice?”

“Of course it is. Your tickets always sell out within a few days.”

“Yeah, to people using bots.” Keith sighed, “Isn’t there a way to prevent that from happening? I want actual fans to get the tickets. Not people who are just going to resell them a week later at an inflated price.”

“Looks like someone has a soft spot after chatting with a fan last night.” Pidge teased, smirking as her eyes flicked over to Keith.

“I have a reputation for not lying to my fans for a reason.” Keith reminded.

“Yeah, because you dropped a song on your social media exposing the lies everyone was making to market you.” Pidge snorted, “Sometimes, I wonder how no one saw that coming.”

“Because they thought a teenager wouldn’t risk his career for it.”

“Too bad for them, you’ve been topping the charts all year.” She tapped away at her iPad as she spoke, “Actually, you’re number two right now.”

“Wait!” Keith sat up abruptly, slightly shaking Kosmo from his resting spot. “Who’s number one?”

“Let me check.” She tapped her screen again and swiped up. “Romelle.”

A sad sigh escaped Keith’s lips as he went limp into his mattress again. “I feel bad for her.”

“For being number one with the same song for a month?” Pidge asked, “I don’t know, I think that’s something to be happy about.”

“Yeah, but a sixteen year old is only going to keep it together in front of all those cameras for so long. She’s going to have everyone in her business constantly for another few years until she’s either no longer relevant and her parents took all her money or she cracks and stays relevant because they’re making fun of her.” Keith pulled Kosmo back onto his chest. He ran his fingers through his dog’s fur as he continued, “All the entertainment industry likes to do is use child stars to make as much money as they can with no concern for their well being. And they’re just going to do the same to her now that she’s popular.”

“Well, we can at least hope she has a better manager now than you did at her age.”

“It still feels like I’m about to watch history repeat itself.”

“Not everyone it out to hurt others. I think I’ve done a pretty good job.”

“I honestly question why you deal with me a lot.”

“Imagine my thoughts when Matt told me he got me my first job as a personal manager and it turned out to be you. But, I still did it anyway, because you’re a good person, even if you make my job hard sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Keith repeated, as if he expected her to add something else to the statement.

“Yeah, sometimes. I like working with you Keith. I really do. You care about your music and fans more than the money. You’re also not trying to spend your money on three yachts and a fifth house.” Pidge insisted, “Your fans like you so much for a reason. It’s not just the music. They like you. That’s why they’re always there even in the rough spots.”

Keith huffed.

Pidge flipped the cover over her iPad. “Worrying isn’t going to help you, Keith. Go to bed. You need rest on your days off if you’re going to make it through this tour.”

“I’m still seeing that guy tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t dream of trying to stop you.” Pidge assured, “Besides, I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I’m not _that_ difficult.”

“You’d be surprised.” Pidge joked, lifting her covers and slipping underneath them.

Keith grabbed a pillow, softly chucking it at his manager.

A laugh escaped Pidge. “See! You’re being difficult!”

“Oh, my God.” Keith rolled his eyes with a snicker, “I think you’re just looking for reasons to not like me.”

“Yeah, I am. Because you’re not going to bed.”

“Fine, fine.” Keith resigned, “I’ll sleep.”

“Good.” Pidge replied with a playful smile. She reached over, flicking the lights off and leaving the duo in complete darkness, save for the lights that illuminated the city. “Night Keith.”

“Night Pidge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to [BansheeBender](https://twitter.com/bansheebender) for drawing a happy Keith texting Lance <3  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith couldn't remember the last time he walked outside without the threat of unknown people approaching him. Those were days of the past. But, maybe, just maybe, with Lance as his guide, they didn't have to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again with the new chapter. Hope everyone's doing well!

Keith wrapped the black cashmere scarf around his neck, gazing in the mirror as he adjusted it to cover his nose and mouth. He placed a pair of sunglasses onto his face, mentally commenting on the ridiculousness of the combo. But, in the end, a day of looking a tad odd in a city where Lance had assured him that no one would care was better than the possibility of being spotted and harassed for photos and autographs.

He loved his fans, but they also sometimes needed a lesson in boundaries. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Slipping it out of his skinny jeans, he tilted the screen towards his face until it lit up. Lance’s name presented itself, and Keith let a small smile tug at his lips.

Keith shook his head. No. He couldn’t let himself get too excited. He was going to leave the city in a few days, and he’d never see Lance again. And, if he did, it wouldn’t be for a long time. It was a casual date. That was all. 

He popped Pidge a quick text and slipped the hotel room key into his wallet before exiting and descending the elevator into the lobby. Purple eyes glanced around as his mind remained hyper aware of the fact he was in public again. His search ended when his gaze fell on dark hair and excited blue irises. 

Surprising how a man he spent the majority of his time with either hungover or drunk managed to leave such an impression.

Lance waved energetically, attempting to grab Keith’s attention before bounding over. He flashed Keith a large smile before grabbing both of his hands in his own, “You’re going to love New York by the end of the day. I promise.” Lance assured, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Keith let out a small laugh, fighting the smile that threatened to plaster itself onto his face.

He’d never been happier to have something to keep his expressions hidden. At least the dumb outfit he’d found himself in had more than one use today.

Now only if he could take back anything he’d told Lance while drinking his worries away.

“I’m sorry.” Lance said sheepishly, “I’m just really excited.”

“I’m not as exciting as they try and make me out to be. Trust me.” 

Lance slipped his hands into his jacket pockets, never losing the nervous smile that glued itself to his face. “So, um. Where do you wanna go?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be my tour guide?” Keith said with an amused smirk, “You were supposed to have this all planned out.”

Lance touched the back of his neck with his hand, rubbing at it with his palm as he spoke. “Right. Sorry. Um…” Blue eyes flicked up to the ceiling as Lance drug out the ‘m’, “So, I’m going to assume you don’t want to go see a TV show taping or anything like that, and we’re going to avoid tour groups, because you have me instead. So… what do you think of nature?” 

“I’m a fan. I was actually looking at a house around here. Further upstate, I like the woods a lot.”

“Well, we don’t have a lot of woods around here,  _ but _ we do have parks! Why don’t we start with Central Park? And if you like animals we can visit the zoo there too.” Keith visibly perked up, and Lance flashed another smile. “You like animals?”

Keith nodded. “I haven’t been to a zoo in years.”

“Then zoo it is. I’d say we could go to the Bronx Zoo, but I want to make sure we have time to do more than one thing. So, the Central Park Zoo is smaller, but we can fit more stuff in this way. Plus, we can take a walk around the park too. Sound good?”

Keith hooked his arm with Lance’s. “Lead the way.” 

“My pleasure.” Lance guided them out of the hotel lobby, stepping through the sliding doors and out into the busy world. “So, Central Park is about a fifteen minute walk, so we won’t need to take the subway yet. But, we’ll need to later. I’ll pay for you though, so don’t worry about that.”

Keith removed his arm from Lance’s, stopping in his tracks. “No. I’m paying for my part. I’ll pay for yours too.”

“Keith, seriously, don’t worry about it. It’s not that expensive, and I already have a metrocard.” Lance insisted.

“Lance, I’m rich. I can’t take money from you.”

“You said you like being treated like a normal person, right?” Lance took Keith’s hand into his own. “Then let me just pay for the subway, okay?”

Keith pressed his lips together into a thin line, purple eyes flicking down to the sidewalk while he processed Lance’s words. Of the eight million people he could’ve run into in this city, somehow he managed to find the single one who genuinely wanted to be his equal. He should’ve thanked his lucky stars. Finding a decent person was often like searching for a needle in a haystack. But, after countless years of relying on almost no one but himself, it seemed like a mistake that anyone would offer such a simple thing to him.

Lance  _ was _ right though. He did say he liked that Lance remembered he was a person over a star. And this was what normal people did, right?

He resigned. There was no way he could know. The only choice he truly had was to trust Lance’s words. 

It didn’t mean he couldn’t return the favor though.

“Okay. But on one condition.” 

“I’m listening.”

“I pay for food. Yours and mine.” Keith proposed.

Lance let out a sigh, but the upwards curl of his lips betrayed him. “Fine. Besides, I’ve never been one to turn down a free meal.”

Keith buried his hands into his pockets. “So, which way to Central Park?” 

“Oh!” Lance grabbed Keith’s arm, pulling him in the proper direction. “This way.”

Keith let himself get dragged along with Lance’s movements and energy. He followed the other man’s guidance, weaving through crowds of tourists and stopping in their tracks for photos.

Next time, he was going to ask Pidge for a room away from Times Square.

“Honestly, I don’t come around here often. You couldn’t pay me to come to Times Square. But, you’re worth it.”

“Glad to know I’m worth a trip into this mass of people.”

“Yeah, I usually stick around downtown Manhattan if I come here. There’s this cookie dough place by NYU that’s kinda my weakness. And, well, also Veronica’s bar is here too.”

“Is your sister the manager?” Keith asked, turning his head slightly towards Lance.

“Oh, yeah! She studied beverages, and when she moved out to NYC, she told me I could have the extra room.” Lance’s eyes lit up as he spoke, a new happiness entering his tone as he babbled on about his family member, “She wants to run a hotel bar in the future, but she likes the job right now. So, she’s sticking with it.”

“What’s keeping her from opening her own place or getting in with a hotel?” 

“Oh, well, she wants to save money first. I don’t blame her. Living out here is really expensive. Plus, city tax is a thing.”

“Where are you from originally?”

“Pennsylvania.”

“Small town boy?”

“Eh, kinda? I mean, it didn’t have a small town charm or anything, but it wasn’t really a city. Suburbs I guess?” Lance guided him across the street and around a corner.

“I get that. I’m grew up in Flagstaff, Arizona. Getting dragged to L.A. was a shock to my system.” Keith glanced up. The large buildings were each decorated with excessive lights and advertisements, creating an environment of overstimulation fueled by consumerism. Though, in retrospect, it was out of place for him to complain about such a concept. The guarantee that his fans would continue to buy his albums and concert tickets was the thing that kept him employed after all. “Do you like it here at least?” 

“Yeah, I love it.” Lance spread his arms as if he was attempting to embrace the entirety of the city. “To be honest, when I first moved I was kinda nervous about it. But, once I adjusted, it felt like home. I guess L.A. was like that too, huh?”

Keith shrugged. “It’s a little more complicated. I didn’t have any family with me when I moved, so I was pretty much just working all the time. I learned to like it. There’s really not a choice when you’re famous. It’s either big city or a house with no neighbors for miles.”

“I’m guessing that’s why you’re such a fan of middle of nowhere New York?” 

“It’s appealing.” Keith admitted, “Sometimes you just want constant peace and quiet. You seem like a people person though. So, I guess we’re different.”

Lance waved a car on before grabbing Keith’s arm to lead them both through the crosswalk. “I might like city life, but I can appreciate wanting to be in the quiet too. Like, it’s nice here, but it’s always so hustle bustle.”

“If you want to be a musician, then get used to it. I can’t remember the last time I got a good night’s sleep.” Keith glanced up, appreciating the way the scenery changed from tall buildings to a small patch of trees and other greenery. Despite the lack of leaves left hanging on the branches, it struck him as a much nicer view than endless mountains of bricks that touched the sky.

“Guess I’ll be drowning myself in coffee then.” Lance laughed.

“Not if you’re singing you won’t. Have to take care of your voice.” Keith let his eyes wander over the park. “You’ll have a whole list of things you can and can’t do.”

“Yet, here you were drinking in my sister’s bar.” 

“I never said I listened.” Keith crossed his arms playfully. “I thought you were a fan. You should know I’m horrible at listening.” 

Lance shrugged, palms turning upwards. “Guess I need my Keith fan club license revoked.” 

“Well, I’m right here to take it.”

Lance pulled out his wallet and waved around his metrocard. “All yours. Just come and take it.”

Keith took the card from Lance’s grasp, brushing his fingers against Lance’s in the process.

Blue eyes flicked to Keith’s hand for a split second before focusing back on his face. He shook off the thought. “The… the ticketbooth is a little further down.”

“Do you come here often?” Keith asked, “You seem like you know it well for not living in Manhattan.”

“Oh, yeah, not really. Like I said, I try to avoid the whole Times Square area, and this is pretty close.” Lance shoved his hands back into his pockets. “You’ve toured here a ton of times. Have you really never even looked around Times Square?”

Keith shook his head. “My first manager didn’t like me going out much. Said I needed to focus on my career and not be a stupid teenager. By the time I got my current manager, I was already too famous to go out safely. But, I think I just stopped caring at this point. As long as no one can really tell who I am, I’m usually good.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, once you leave the real touristy parts, people are pretty chill about celebrities.” 

“Thanks for the reassurance.” Keith’s expression relaxed underneath his scarf and sunglasses. “It’s really nice to not be cooped up in a hotel room. Thanks for taking me out, again. I needed it.”

“Of course, Keith. I…” Lance bit his bottom lip, hesitating on his words, “I mean, we haven’t met before. But I really enjoy your music. Least I could do was show you around the city a bit.” He turned around, quickly conversing with the ticket vendor before returning to Keith and handing him a ticket.

“I’m glad someone follows me for the music instead of whatever the tabloids made up about me this week.” Keith glanced over the ticket Lance had handed him and followed his companion towards the actual zoo.

“Who wouldn’t follow you for the music?” Lance gaped, “It’s good. It’s always been good.”

“I would beg to disagree.” Keith sighed, “Personally, I can’t stand anything from my first two albums.”

“Don’t you like them just a little bit? I mean, they’re you’re songs. You have to have  _ some _ connection to them.” 

“Nope. Hate them. I only sing the popular ones in concert, because everyone likes them.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated. You’d get it if you were in the music industry as long as I’ve been.” Keith effectively dodged the question, “Are you seriously going to tell me you’ve never made anything you’ve absolutely hated?”

“I mean, if I don’t like a song, usually I just scrap it.” Lance pushed open a door, holding it for Keith and following him inside. The room was decorated like a forest, birds of different species roaming free inside. One swooped above his head, startling him out of the rest of his thought.

Keith lifted his sunglasses, boldly sliding them over his bangs and letting them settle on his forehead. His body seemed relaxed, at ease as purple eyes followed the winged beauties that inhabited the room. He stepped forward, continuing through the exhibit as he admired the creatures he shared it with. Leaning over slightly, he glanced at the informational plaques, absorbing the information offered to him. A smile fought its way onto his face under the fabric covering it.

Lance approached behind Keith, peering over his shoulder. “Do you like birds?”

Keith nodded excitedly. “I donate to a wildlife sanctuary every year.”

“Really? That’s cool. You never mentioned it to any interviewers before.”

Keith kept his eyes glued to the plaques. “They don’t need to know my whole life. I’m not doing it for brownie points anyway. Whatever people think of me is what they’re going to think of me. I don’t really care enough to change it.”

“Oh.” Lance took a moment to formulate a second half of his response. “I guess that makes sense. Charity really isn’t genuine if you’re flaunting it.”

Keith hummed as he continued reading the rest of the facts. A bird flew close to him, finally perching on Keith’s arm and looking up at him with curious eyes. He reached out a finger to stroke the feathers on its head and let his gaze soften as he lost himself with the animal. 

After a few minutes the bird took its leave, and Keith spoke again, “I think, if I wasn’t a musician, I would’ve been a park ranger or something. What about you?”

“Huh… I never thought too much about it. I’ve always really wanted to do something with music. I guess if it wasn’t performing it would be teaching music?” Lance contemplated, pressing his thumb into his cheek as his chin rested on his curled fingers.

“Nothing else ever caught your attention? Only music?”

“I guess maybe being an astronaut? But I left college, so that dream’s down the drain.”

“You could always go back.” Keith assured, turning to face him, “It’s never too late for that.”

“I mean, I never really liked college that much to begin with?” Lance said. He stepped up the stairs of the exhibit, leading Keith into another room away from the birds. “I was always so drained when I was studying. I felt so lifeless, and I wanted something else.”

“Look, I dropped out of high school at fourteen. I’m the last person to judge over education.” Keith leaned over at another plaque, reading over the words presented to him. He continued, “Just do what makes you happy. College isn’t everything.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re an international sensation. People everywhere love you.” Lance kicked at the ground in self-pity. “I’m some rando playing in a bar every couple nights.”

“A large part of it is luck. Yeah, talent’s a thing. But luck and connections play a role. I was just lucky enough some guys from a rock band wanted to buy me a meal and thought I was talented.” 

“Yeah. I just met you, and I’m  _ still _ a rando who plays in a bar.” Lance sighed.

“I said I’d take your CD to my label, right?” Keith pointed out, straightening his posture as he finished reading, “A friend of mine kept telling me patience yields focus whenever I wanted something to happen right away. He’s right. Once I’m off tour, I can talk to my producer, okay?”

A pout etched itself onto Lance’s face. “Okay.” 

“Cheer up. Enjoy your time to live like a normal person.” Keith tilted Lance’s chin up. “You’ll miss it.”

The dark fabric covered Keith’s mouth, but the slight squint of his eyes betrayed him, revealing his hidden smile. “I meant it when I said I liked your voice.”

Lance gently swatted Keith’s hand away, turning his head in a pitiful attempt to hide the heat flooding to his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

Keith slid his hands back into his pockets, dropping the subject. He ambled into the next room, Lance padding behind him. Glancing around the room, he attempted to carry on the conversation, “So, why did you move to New York?”

“Oh, well, when Veronica got her new job, that was about the time when I dropped out of college. I needed a change of scenery. I wanted to build my own life apart from what everyone else wanted for me, and Veronica and I have always been really close. So, I figured it would be a good opportunity.” Lance fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “And when I told her I wanted to be a professional musician, she talked to the owner to get special permission for me to play there.”

Keith quirked an eyebrow. “Special permission?” 

“Yeah. I’m too young to actually be in the bar. They said as long as she doesn’t serve me alcohol, I can perform there.”

Keith stopped dead in his tracks, choking on the air in his lungs. Wide eyed, he forced out, “You’re underage?”

“...Yeah?” Lance gave him a confused look. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Oh my God.” Panic settled just below Keith’s skin. “You’re not a minor, right?”

“No, no, no.” Lance threw his hands up in front of him, shaking them in defense. “I’m an adult. I’m twenty.”

“Wait, fuck.” Keith’s hands found his face, palms dragging down it as he recalled the other night. “I bought alcohol for someone underage. Fuck.”

“Hey, hey, it’s not a big deal. I promise.” Lance placed a reassuring hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“I swear to God, I make the worst decisions when I drink.” Keith continued, scolding himself as if he was his own parent.

“Dude, really, it’s fine.”

“Wait!” Keith immediately turned his gaze to Lance. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“My teenage idol is talking to me in a bar and possibly trying to pick me up, and I’m supposed to be worried about if I’m legally able to drink?” Lance shifted his weight to one leg and crossed his arms over his chest. “And I’m supposed to believe Mr. Superstar here never drank before he was twenty-one? There’s literally photos of you drunk online.”

“Please don’t remind me.” Keith groaned.

“Look,” Lance rubbed his hand up and down Keith’s arm soothingly. “It’s between you, me, and my sister. Okay?”

“You’re not bluffing, right?” Keith asked, “The last thing I need right now is some bad publicity about how I give underage kids alcohol or got drunk on a subway. My manager will literally kill me.”

“Dude, of course I’m serious. You’ve been really chill. I’m not going to go out there and ruin your image for a couple quick bucks. That’d be an actual asshole move.”

Keith released the fist he wasn’t aware he’d made, swallowing the turbulent emotions that had overtaken him moments earlier, he breathed out a small, “Oh…”

“It wasn’t my first drink, and you definitely weren’t the first twenty-one year old to buy me drinks. You’re a person too. We all do that stuff. Why should it matter more that you did it? And obviously, you wouldn’t of done it if you knew I wasn’t twenty-one.”

Keith’s eyes flicked to the floor, expression hidden by the soft fabric around his face.

“You’re not a bad person. I’m not here to try and ‘expose’ you or something like that.” Lance accompanied the word with air quotes.

Keith stood silent for a moment. Eventually he spoke again, “Thanks.”

“Yeah dude, of course. You’re just trying to live your life. I’m not here to stop you.”

Keith tapped his foot against the ground, as if he was attempting to distract himself from something before suggesting, “Why don’t we go see the bears?”

Lance gave him a warm smile, voice just as soft, “Follow me.”

* * *

The loud roar of the subway echoed throughout the underground passageways. Each bump stood as a reminder they were still moving, as the darkness from the tunnels invaded the cart and was the only sight to be seen from each pointless window. 

Lance held on firmly to a large metal pole in the middle of the train. Keith had protested about joining such a crowded car when an empty one was right next to it, but Lance had insisted that if a car was ever empty on a train, you didn’t want to know why it was empty. It was a mystery best left unsolved.

Keith kept his own grip on the same pole, slightly under Lance’s. A part of him hoped facing Lance for the entirety of the trip would leave him incognito enough to deal with a crowded area where anyone could possibly recognize him. Especially when it was a crowded area he wasn’t allowed to leave at will. He thought back to accessories he was adorning. A fear that the oddness of it would make him stand out more than blend in crept up into the back of his mind. Despite how many times Lance assured him throughout the day that no one cared enough in New York, about celebrities or oddly dressed persons. In fact, Lance had gone as far as to say as long as Keith kept his clothes on and head down, no one would ever pay him any mind.

The train came to another stop, jolting the duo slightly and making Keith thankful for his grip on the pole, even if it made his skin crawl and brain beg to boil his entire existence in hot water later tonight.

Another flurry of passengers entered the car, shoving Keith closer to Lance. Their arms brushed against each other despite standing inches apart. Lance shot him an awkward and apologetic grin once the train began its journey to the next stop and turned his head away slightly.

It was nice, refreshing even, to travel a city in pseudo normalcy for the first time in ages. Even more-so that he managed to do so with a fan that treated his celebrity status as nothing more than just Keith’s specific line of work. 

His mind strayed to forbidden territory, wondering if the train would hit another large bump, pushing him into Lance. Would Lance smile at him again, flashing that cute expression before accepting Keith’s new closeness? Would he rearrange his hold on the pole to keep Keith close to him? Or would he awkwardly move so Keith could maintain a proper distance?

Seeing how polite Lance had been towards him since day one, he had a feeling it would be the latter. This guy seemed incapable of invading his personal space in any way he figured could possibly cause Keith discomfort. 

In retrospect, he really lucked out.

Keith shoved the thoughts from his brain. He had no business thinking that way. There was nothing behind this date. It was casual. In a few days, Keith would be off to the next city, and Lance would be in New York, both returning to their normal lives. All this day was to either of them was a story; a chance for Keith to see the city, and a day for Lance to tell his friends about after Keith left. If Lance had acted any other way towards Keith, he’d assume he was going to brag about nailing him to his friends. God knew that had been an inescapable occurrence in the past. 

Though, this dork seemed too nice to have the audacity to make up such a lie.

Keith shooed the thoughts away again. Even if Lance lived in L.A. alongside him, it was a mistake to let him get that close. All he needed was to get involved with someone who would find another person later and spill his secrets to the world when the time was right. Lance could insist he wasn't that type of person all he wanted, but at the end of the day, words only held so much weight.

The train jolted again, shaking every standing passenger. A hand grabbed Keith’s arm, pulling him towards the doors. He glanced up, the realization dawning on him that Lance had been speaking.

“—Our stop.”

He let Lance guide him out of the car, weaving through the people blocking them from exiting. The automatic doors shut behind them and Lance turned his head to gaze at Keith, concern flicking in his blue eyes.

“Are you okay? You zoned out there.”

Keith blinked rapidly, refocusing himself on the world around him. “Yeah, I was just thinking…” 

“You wanna talk about it at all?” Lance offered, eyes still glued to Keith and searching for some sign of wellbeing.

Keith shook his head. “I’m okay. Just thinking about some new lyrics.” He said, lying through his teeth and hoping that the other man would drop the topic.

Lance kept his focus on Keith, seemingly unconvinced before turning his head to face the steps to the surface world. The duo made their way back into the sunlight, suddenly surrounded my hoards of people attempting to get to their own destinations. Keith couldn’t blame Lance for not wanting to come around Times Square if this was the usual. 

Purple eyes shifted over to Lance, catching the other man sparing him a quick glance again.

New subject. He needed a new subject. Keith raked through his mind, attempting to dig up anything he could use as a new conversation starter. 

He found it.

“So, you have some songs about a girl on your CD. What’s going on with her?”

“Oh…” Lance’s face fell a bit at the mention, and a large part of Keith instantly regretted asking. “Well, I actually got dumped a few months ago.”

“Ow. I’m sorry.”

“No, no. It’s not your fault. It had to happen eventually now that I think about it.” Lance sighed, pressing his hands into his pockets and pushing down. “We were high school sweethearts. But, once I moved out here, things got rough. I mean, there were always touchy subjects between us, so I guess that was a bad sign in the first place. But, I just really wanted to make it work, ya know?”

“I get it. But sometimes you just need to part ways.”

“Easy for you to say. You could have anyone you wanted. I’m some loser compared to you.”

Keith shrugged. “Yeah, but fame isn’t for everyone. There are plenty of people not willing to give up their privacy to be a celebrity boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but still.” Lance pouted. 

Keith placed a gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder. “There’s someone out there for you. Don’t stress about it.”

“I try.” Lance guided Keith around a corner. “Actually, Veronica was encouraging me to talk to you the other night, because she wants me to get back out there. She says I can’t mope over my ex forever.”

“I’ve been single for years, and I’m fine.” Keith pointed out, “Don’t rush a relationship. It’s not worth it.”

“Maybe not for you. But I like being in a relationship.” Lance glanced up at the street signs, mentally calculating how much further Keith’s hotel was. “I like having someone who wants to cuddle with me and kiss me and hear about my day.”

“To each their own I guess. Relationships tend to interfere too much with my career. Plus, tabloids are exhausting.”

“They can’t be  _ that _ difficult to manage with your work.”

“You’d be surprised.” Keith pulled out his phone, quickly glancing at a text from Pidge informing him she’d be out of the room and discussing his next show with a venue owner. He popped her a response text and slid the phone back into his pocket. “Shiro’s last relationship fell apart, because his boyfriend felt like he was choosing his tour and music over him. Which, I guess is true. But, Shiro’s always been that type of person.”

“But people get married in Hollywood all the time.”

“Yeah, but most of them don’t get involved with someone who’s not also in the same lifestyle. When you’re both traveling all the time for work, you understand that part of each other’s life.”

Lance frowned. “So, you’re saying you’re not even looking for someone?”

“Dating is hard when you’re famous. Everyone’s in your business and creating rumors, so I just decide to stay away from it.”

Lance pushed the hotel door open, holding it for Keith before following him towards the elevator in the lobby. “So, you spend all that time alone on tour just to go back home to be alone there too? All because of tabloids?”

“Look, in the past four years there have been three separate rumors about me dating Shiro. And then one about James. I don’t need to give them any actual fodder to work with right now.” Keith pulled out his wallet, retrieving the hotel card key and swiping into the elevator. “Besides, I’m not alone. I have friends. They call me all the time while I’m on the road. And my dog comes on tour with me too. I’m perfectly content without a long term relationship.”

“Are you one of those married to the job people?” 

“Maybe.” Keith leaned his weight onto one leg, watching the digital numbers above the sliding doors decrease. He added a tone of laughter to his remaining words, “I guess if I retire, it makes me a gold digger then.”

“Well, to be fair, I think you’re the one making out the best in the arrangement.”

Keith’s eyes flicked down and then back up. “Mmm, yeah, maybe.”

Lance stuck a foot out into the elevator opening. He waited for Keith to enter before following close behind. The large sliding metal doors shut in front of them as Lance absorbed his grandiose surroundings. It was a small fraction of Keith’s life that Lance had been given a peak into. Overly decorated elevators and hotel lobbies were the usual for Keith, having the luxury of viewing the world was a normal part of his life, even if others would never be so lucky.

Blue eyes glanced over at Keith. The confines of the elevator seemingly drew the tension from Keith’s body as his black scarf loosely fell across his shoulders and neck. His lips parted slightly as he glanced over something on his phone and the realization dawned on Lance. This was the first moment he’d seen Keith’s whole face today. Parted lips turned into a warm smile and soft eyes as Keith tapped out a message onto his screen.

It was a part of Keith Lance was given an exclusive chance to see. So relaxed, so peaceful. A Keith unafraid of a camera popping out and ruining his moment of solitude. A Keith enjoying himself.

A Keith without a mask.

A wave of sadness crashed over Lance as the number displayed above the elevator buttons crept closer to Keith’s floor. He would drop Keith off at the door to his room, watch him go inside, then possibly never see him again. And, if he did, it wouldn’t ever be in the same way. Keith would be guarded, keeping his inner self in a careful cage while projecting an aura of professionalism to whoever shared a possible recording studio with them.

He suddenly dreaded the inevitable opening of the elevator doors.

A high pitched ding rang through the confined space, and Keith stalked out, turning his head quickly to assure Lance was still behind him. He guided Lance through a maze of hallways, aligned with doors on both sides, and eventually stopped in front of one area in particular. Swiping the key card through the small device on his door, he waited patiently for the light to flash green before pushing the handle down and letting himself in. 

He turned, facing Lance as he held the door open with his left foot and occupied the doorway. The same soft look Keith gave his phone earlier rested on Lance, a smile spreading and a silent fondness entering the atmosphere between the two.

“Thanks for taking me out.”

“Of course.” Lance returned the same smile to Keith. “And if you’re ever in the area, I’m more than happy to do this again.”

Keith glanced down at the floor, same look glued onto his face. “You’re really sweet. I hope you know that.” Keith breathed out, mumbling something under his breath that Lance could only catch was something about bad decisions and regret before Keith bit his bottom lip and flicked his eyes over to Lance just briefly enough to extend an offer. “Do you, um… do you want to come in?”

“Oh, um, yeah. If, if that’s okay with you and everything. I don’t wanna overstep any boundaries.”

Keith let out a small laugh. “I invited you in. I think that’s enough clarification of boundaries.” Purple eyes suddenly widened, laughter leaving his voice immediately. “Unless you don’t want to! I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“No! No, I’m not pressured! No. I’d like to! I just don’t want  _ you _ to feel pressured. I just, um, I—” Lance took a deep breath, smiling gently at Keith. “I’d like that. It sounds nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a huge thanks to [Mimi](https://twitter.com/bansheebender/) for creating such amazing art for this fic!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madison Square Garden was the venue for those who had really, truly made it. And, while he might not have been there to perform himself, being backstage alongside the crew supporting his childhood icon was something that seemed out of a teenage fantasy.
> 
> Especially when Keith was inviting Lance into his dressing room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another update! I've already started the next chapter, so hopefully it'll be out soon.
> 
> Small warning for depictions of anxiety in this chapter

Lance stuck the key into the lock, turning it and pushing the door in. Stalking inside, he shrugged off his coat and placed it on the the hook by the doorframe. He slipped off his shoes and moved slowly towards the kitchen, eyes flicking to the illuminated screen of his phone.

Him and Keith were staring back at him. The two of them took the photo on Lance’s phone after he’d managed to draw a loud laughter from the other man while taking a selfie of himself with an unflattering Snapchat filter. Lance had then insisted that they play around with the partner filters afterwards.

He didn’t send the photo out, but he didn’t delete it either.

“Someone got lucky last night, huh?”

Lance glanced up, meeting his sister’s form sitting at the kitchen table. “Way to assume.”

“You go out on a date with a rock star, then text me to say you’re sleeping in his hotel room for the night, and I’m supposed to assume nothing happened?” Veronica stood from her seat at the table, moving over to place her dishes in the sink.

“You know, I can sleep over at a friend’s place too.” Lance crossed his arms over his chest with a huff.

“You went on a date. He’s hardly a friend at that point.” She leaned against the counter, facing Lance. “Besides, he’s really into you. I can tell.”

“That’s the thing though.” Lance let out a sigh, arms falling to his sides. A defeated look crossed his face. “I don’t think he’s really that into me. I think he genuinely wants to be friends, if anything at all.”

Veronica frowned. “I’m sorry, Lance.”

He dejectedly crossed the room, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Placing his forearms onto the table, he leaned his upper body onto the surface. He drummed his fingers against the table as he rode out the period of silence. His sister didn’t press the topic, which in all honesty he was grateful for. For all the times she’d gotten excessively nosy in his life, she did know when to stop and let Lance open up on his unfortunate life moments on his own.

“I brought it on myself. I got my hopes up at the idea that someone like Keith would actually go for me. I mean, I only have one real relationship under my belt, and that ended horribly. Maybe I just don’t get it.” He pressed his palm into his cheek, leaning his weight into it. “I haven’t dated a guy before either, so maybe I really am just out of touch with everything.”

“Lance, you’re great. Just because some famous musician didn’t want to get with you doesn’t mean you’re out of touch. You’re young. I think it’s normal to only have a relationship or two under your belt.” Veronica slid into the seat across from him. “Don’t worry about gender, just go where your heart wants. If you like someone, just go for it. That’s the best advice I have.”

“That’s the thing. I was trying that. I really felt a connection with Keith when we hung out. He seemed so down to Earth. It felt like the first time I went out with Jenny. I just thought maybe he felt the same. But I guess not.” Lance fiddled with his thumbs, circling his fingertips around each other. “What if I keep reading things wrong forever?”

“If Keith doesn’t like you, then he’s the one missing out, not you okay? You’ll find someone. It might not be today, and it might not be tomorrow, but eventually you will. Just keep trying.”

“You know… it’s kinda funny. Cause he brought me into his hotel room, and I thought, this is it. He’s a rockstar, so we’re gonna hook up. But we just ended up talking and cuddling a bit. If he wasn’t leaving this week, I’d think maybe there really was something there, but he didn’t even kiss me. Don’t famous people just bang whoever they want?”

“Would you really be happy if you slept with him, and he left though?” Veronica placed her elbows on the table, folding her hands together and resting her chin on them. “Besides, having a celebrity as a friend is pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Lance sighed dramatically, “I just thought maybe I found someone who I connected with, ya know?”

“Yeah.” She stood up, stepping towards him. She placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder before making her way to the fridge. “How about we go out this weekend. There’s a new queer club opening up a few blocks from the bar. Maybe you’ll meet someone.”

His eyes softened, a smile crossing over his features. When she leaned in for a hug, he returned the action.

“So, have you eaten?” She asked, already dragging food out of the cabinets.

“Nope.” Lance stood, joining his sister. She was right. Maybe it was for the best that him and Keith weren’t getting involved. At least he could still say he went on a date with a celebrity.

He took a deep breath, exhaling as he fell in sync with his sister. If anything, he’d see Keith again, when he was singing his heart out in recording studios too.

* * *

_“This is Keith, and you’re listening to z100. Make sure to stay tuned for a sneak peak of my new song, Sophisticated, dropping next month.”_

The radio chatter faded to music as the noise filled the ambience of the apartment. He reached into the sink, hand and arm sumberging into the warm soapy water as he fished out the dirty utensils that managed to hide from his view. The monotony of the task pushed his brain into autopilot.

Did Keith wash his own dishes? Or did he have someone who did that for him? Or maybe he just used plastic utensils and cups for everything? He could definitely afford it.

Would he be washing his own dishes if he made it out to the west coast with a record deal? No. Not if,  _when_. If he wanted to make it big like Keith, then he needed to keep his chin up about his progress. He’d gone from nothing to a familiar face with recurring listeners so far, so there was nothing saying he wouldn’t be able to make it. Especially if Keith was serious about the demo talk.

Was Keith _really_ serious about the demo though? Chances were he'd forget all about Lance the moment he left New York City.

Lance breathed out a sigh, scrubbing at a small cutting board that happened to fall out of his line of sight earlier. It wasn’t worth getting riled up over. If Keith forgot about him, it was his loss anyway. Lance was a catch, and if Keith couldn’t see it, he wasn’t worth Lance’s time.

An insistent buzz echoed throughout the kitchenette. He pulled his hands away from the sink, wiping away the soap suds and excess water from his skin before picking up the vibrating phone on the dry section of the counter. Flipping the screen towards him, he glanced at the name and quirked an eyebrow. Keith.

Why was Keith calling him?

He slid his thumb over the glass screen protector and lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Lance!” Keith’s voice came through with a vibe of excitement, “You picked up!”

An awkward laugh escaped Lance as he mentally attempted to defuse the seemingly imaginary tension between them. He reached over to the old stereo, turning the volume down as some song by Romelle played softly. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know.” Keith answered, a hum breaking apart the two sentences, “I don’t think people like me all that much usually.”

“Are you kidding?” Lance scoffed playfully, “Have you checked your Twitter following lately? People _love_ you.”

“No.” Keith elongated the ‘o’ as he spoke, and his words slowly blended together as he continued, “They like Keith the celebrity. _You_ , you like Keith the person.”

Had Keith been drinking? Lance furrowed his brows together as he played back Keith’s words and tone in his head. To be fair, Keith was a celebrity. He probably had just gotten back from a party of some sort.

No reason he couldn’t indulge him though.

“And I’m sure others would too if they got to know him.” Lance leaned his back against the counter, bracing himself with his free arm.

“But if I tell them things about me, then they’ll tell the tabloids, and I’ll be sad again.” Keith whined. The sound of him falling back onto what Lance assumed was his bed entered the receiver.

“You told me about yourself.”

“But you’re different.” Keith insisted, the last word coming out much harder than the others.

Lance chuckled, “How so?”

“I donno. Just are.” Keith slurred.

A relaxed smile spread over his face. “So, what did you get up to tonight? Fun party?”

“No.” Keith hummed, taking his sweet time with answering, “I just stayed in the hotel all day. Pidge went back to LA, and I didn’t want to go out with my bodyguard and cause a scene.”

“Aww, I’m sorry buddy. Is that why you started drinking? Are you bored?”

“No, I got sad when she went back.” Keith confessed, and Lance could practically visualize the pout that etched itself onto Keith’s face.

“Lonely?”

“Mhm.” The clang of dog tags sounded in the background, and Lance assumed Kosmo, the dog he had gotten the privilege of meeting, had decided to come closer to Keith. “But, ‘s okay though. Kosmo’s here.”

Lance frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Keith drew out the ending of the word.

A small silence passed between them before Lance spoke again, “So, why’d you call?”

“Mmmm, donno. I was thinking about you.”

Keith was thinking about _him_? No. He was just taking this out of context. It was already clear that Keith wasn’t interested in him. He needed to accept it and move on. Lance shook his head, dispelling the train of thought.

“Me? Why me?”

“I was listening to your CD.” Keith replied contently.

Keith was still listening to it?

“Really?”

“Mhm. Your voice is nice. It makes me happy.”

“Oh…”

Kosmo’s collar jangled in the background again. At least Lance could be sure Keith did have some type of company tonight. “Yep. Now, I can hear it more too.”

“Well, I’m flattered.” Lance chuckled softly, stepping over to the couch. He counted his lucky blessings for his sister being out at work for the closing shift tonight, giving him the freedom to carry on his conversation without the prying of an older sibling. “It’s nice to hear from you too, you know.”

“Really?!” Keith exclaimed excitedly.

Lance draped his body over the couch, kicking his feet up onto it and resting his head on the armrest. “Of course it is.”

A needy whine escaped Keith. “Why are you in Queens?”

“I don’t know. I kinda live here.” Lance added a hint of laughter to his tone, “Why are you staying in Manhattan?”

“‘Cause Pidge made the reservation.” Keith answered.

“Well, if you’re around tomorrow, I’d say we could take Kosmo to the dog park.”

An annoyed whine left Keith’s mouth. “I have a show tomorrow—Wait!” Keith’s tone perked up, “You should come!”

“To your show?” Lance quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s all good. It’ll be great.”

“Look, you know I’d love to.” Lance sighed, “But I already saw your last show in the area, so I don’t have money for more tickets right now.”

“No, no, no. I’m giving you tickets. VIP. Wait! Backstage! You can watch from the stage.” Keith offered enthusiastically.

“Woah, woah. Are you serious, Keith? That’s expensive.” Lance sat up suddenly, hand grasping at the cushions behind him. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Keith said casually, a slur still entering his words. He took a short break before his next sentence, and Lance assumed he was taking another drink out of whatever bottle was next to him. “You want to be a musician right? This can be practice!”

Lance shook his head, as if Keith could see him. “You’re drunk. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“No.” Keith elongated the ‘o’, “I wanna be nice. You’re nice.”

“You’re already nice, Keith.” Lance assured.

“But I still want to do it.”

“Okay, okay. How about I say okay, but I won’t be upset if you say no when you’re sober?”

“‘Kay.” Keith hummed and accompanied his words with a yawn.

“Tired?”

“Mhm…”

“Then go to bed. You have a big day tomorrow.”

“But I like listening to your voice.” Keith complained, as if he was a small child being told it was bedtime.

“You have the CD.” Lance laughed in amusement.

“But I can listen to that later.”

“Okay, okay.” Lance leaned his head into the back of the couch cushions. “Then what can I do?”

“I don’t know.” Keith paused shortly before continuing, “What kinda song are you working on?”

“I can share a couple lyrics.” Lance offered a bit sheepishly, “I mean, they’re not as great as yours—”

“Shhh, that’s not true.” Keith interrupted.

Lance flicked his eyes in a quick eye roll. “If you say so.”

“I’m serious.” Keith slurred.

“Okay, okay. Lemme go find my notebook.” Lance pushed himself up from his position on the couch and stepped over to his room. He moved over to the corner of his room decorated with Keith’s merch and slid open the top drawer underneath the table beneath them. A hum escaped his mouth as he flipped through the pages of the spiral notebook and settled on a bundle of lyrics he considered his favorites from his last night sitting at his computer and playing a few rhythms. He balanced his phone between his shoulder and cheek. “ _You’re just like a knife, but babe, I wanted to make you my wife. And with every cut and bruise, I’d still do anything for you._ ”

“Is that about the girl in the other songs?”

“Yeah.” Lance admitted, placing the notebook down onto the table, “We kinda broke up not too long ago.”

“You deserve better.”

Lance let out a forced laugh. “Thanks, I guess. I’ll get over her eventually.”

“James’s calling. We can talk tomorrow.” Keith added, slurring James’s name, “Night, Lance.”

“Goodnight, Keith. Drink lots of water. Avoid a hangover.”

“I will.” Keith assured, his words almost combining together. The call dropped, leaving Lance in the silence of the apartment.

Well, at least he had plans for tomorrow night now.

* * *

He popped Keith a short text in the morning, prompting a short apology phone call where Keith profusely apologized for his behavior, whatever it may have been. In all honesty, it was beginning to seem as if the drunken nights were not exactly an infrequent occurrence in Keith’s life. Though, Lance wasn’t about to push the topic. It wasn’t his business after all.

Besides, it was probably normal to drink a bit to unwind. Keith _was_ an international superstar. He probably needed something to mellow him out when the stress of his tour was getting to him. Lance knew he’d need the same if he was in Keith’s position.

It wasn’t like it was exactly destructive behavior either. No, it was more along the lines of amplified happiness that entered Keith’s veins when his blood alcohol content levels rose.

On the bright side, Keith didn’t seem to take back his drunken offer of backstage passes.

Maybe Keith really did have a thing for him. He _did_ call him of all people during his elated drunken night.

He shook the thought away. Keith didn’t like him in that way. He made that obviously clear by his lack of a move on their date, if Lance could even call the day that.

Lance slid his phone from his jacket pocket, glancing at it nervously as he waited for Keith to answer his latest text. He shifted his weight from side to side, resting the majority of it on the balls of his feet, unable to keep still as the anxiety began to bubble to the surface. He’d made it to one of Keith’s shows at Madison Square Garden before, back during his _Bad Boyfriend_ tour, but as of the last and current tours, the other venues had proven much more affordable for closer seats. Though standing outside of Keith’s dressing room was a completely different experience than he’d ever expected to encounter during this part of his life.

Restless fingers played with the hem of his jacket. Keith still hadn’t answered his texts or opened the door to the room Lance had been invited to. Maybe Keith genuinely regretted his generous offer. What if he was just avoiding Lance’s presence? It’s not like Lance was anyone important. If anything, he was just a drunken call when Keith got lonely.

Maybe he could knock? Just once. Keith hadn’t said not to specifically, but he also hadn’t specified if Lance _should_ knock on his door either. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and breathed hard through his nose.

In all fairness, the security did let Lance through when he asked. So, in that aspect, his presence backstage was legitimate and approved by Keith. If Keith agreed to let him be here, would it really be that rude to knock?

He let out a deep breath. He could do this. He wasn’t intruding. Keith wanted him here. He wasn’t imposing.

Lance raised his arm, knocking his knuckles against the wood separating him and Keith.

A minute passed. Maybe he was wrong. He could’ve misread the situation. Another minute passed.

Okay, he definitely misread the situation.

He carefully stepped backwards. He shouldn’t be here. Keith was drunk when he invited him. That should’ve been a sign.

The door swung open, a slightly disheveled Keith standing at the doorway. Full stage makeup covered his face, though his hair seemed to jut in every direction. His features twisted as he forced out his next words, “Hey. Come in.”

Lance stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him. Keith’s dressing room was much more luxurious than Lance had anticipated. The black leather couches were lined up against the walls as the last of the wall space was taken up by a large television and large mirror. The mirror was lined with the stereotypical round light bulbs and a counter filled with makeup and hair products sat under it.

“Everything okay?” Lance gazed at the other man, blue eyes filled with concern.

Keith crossed the room, picking up the tiny metal trash can and returning to the disturbed cushion on the couch where he had seemingly been sitting before. He placed the object between his thighs and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, yeah. I think. Maybe? No, yeah. Probably.”

Lance walked towards him, sitting on the empty cushion closest to Keith. He rested a hand on Keith’s back comfortingly, rubbing up and down in a repetitive motion. Keith’s face remained flushed, just barely hidden by the pounds of makeup that his crew had painted on his face earlier.

A dry heave escaped Keith, sending him doubling over and leaning towards the trash can in between his legs. The horrid sounds continued as trembling hands gripped the metal until his knuckles turned white. He attempted to speak again, something that Lance assumed was supposed to be an apology, before another array of dry heaves ripped through him, effectively cutting off any possible words that could’ve left his mouth. Finally, a disgusting, wet sound accompanied the troublesome scene as Keith voided his stomach into the designated container.

“Keith!” Lance shrieked, body jumping and going rigid at the sight, “Do you need a doctor?! I can call someone!”

Keith frantically shook his head. “No, no. I’m—I’m fine.” He forced out the end of his sentence before letting out a miserable groan and slumping against the the comfy cushions behind him. Carefully, he blotted the wetness from the corners of his eyes with the knuckles of his index fingers and slid his eyelids closed. He gripped at his torn black jeans, attempting to keep himself attached to any remaining rational thoughts as he chest rose and fell aggressively. “Can… can you hand me a tissue?”

“Yeah, of course.” Lance instantly leaned over and brought the box into his lap, pulling out a single tissue and handing it to Keith.

Keith patted at his lips, cautious of the possibility he could wipe the makeup off his face. He croaked out, “Sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize.” Lance waved his hands in front of him frantically. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Keith tossed the tissue onto the coffee table. “I’m just—I’m, I’m good.”

“Look, if you’re sick you shouldn’t be performing.” Lance insisted, taking the trash can away from Keith.

Keith extended his arms, reaching for the cylindrical object. “I might need it again.”

“Again?” Lance frowned and pressed the back of his hand to Keith’s forehead. “You’re not hot…”

“No, no. It’s—” Keith cut himself off with ragged, rapid breaths. A few moments later he continued his sentence, “It just happens sometimes. I’ll be okay. Big shows just suck.”

Blue eyes focused more on Keith. The trembling hands and harsh breaths that accompanied Keith’s flushed face all began to fit together with his last words.

Pre-performance anxiety.

It was something Lance had dealt with on many occasions, though most oftenly with his theater performances during his school days. The times where his brain circled with thoughts of what would happen if he forgot his lines or had an embarrassing blunder on stage did have the ability to send him into a small panic, though he was fairly good at pushing those fears away in order to accomplish his goals. And while he could remind himself over and over that this type of anxiety was extremely normal, a part of him remained completely dumbfounded at the realization that Keith, _the_ Keith, had sat in his dressing room vomiting due to the same fears the average citizen dealt with.

“Nervous?” Lance asked softly, starting up his repetitive rubbing motion along Keith’s back again.

Keith nodded. “Sometimes, I just remember how many people are waiting out there for me. It’s a sold out show.”

“We can talk about it. If-If you want that is. I’m not forcing you.” Lance stammered.

Purple eyes flicked to Lance, then to the ground, then back to Lance. Something unreadable had settled in Keith’s gaze by the time he spoke. “Sometimes, my brain just focuses on everything that could go wrong. What if I just forget my lyrics or something? I’ve already fucked up enough times. It’s not fair to my fans if I give them a bad show.”

“As a certified Keith fan, I’m just happy to see you perform.” Lance moved the box of tissues off of his lap, placing it back onto the coffee table. “I wouldn’t count you messing up some lyrics as you ruining the show. Not as long as you’re giving us everything you’ve got.”

“I do, I always do. You all are the reason I do what I do. I just want to give you all a show that you deserve. But, what if I choke out there? Yeah, I’ve performed MSG before, but it might not goes as well this time.” Keith began to finger comb his hair back into place. “And if I mess up, then the media puts it everywhere. They did it when I was eighteen, and they’ll do it now if it gets them money.”

Lance got up from his spot on the couch, stalking across the room. He took Keith’s hair brush into his hand and returned, handing the object over and retaking his seat. “Well, even if you do mess up, _I_ won’t think any differently of you.”

A small smile tugged at Keith’s lips. “Thanks, Lance. You’re… you’re sweet.” His eyes darted to the floor, and an extra layer of pink dusted his cheeks.

Lance’s lips curled upwards. “You’re gonna do great.”

Keith’s breathing began to mellow. “I’m sorry you had to deal with me like this.”

“I told you, don’t apologize. It’s fine. It happens to the best of us.” Lance rested his hand on Keith’s shoulder supportively.

“I just thought being on a million different stages since I was fourteen would’ve gotten rid of this. But, here I am. Throwing up before a show. Again.” Keith sighed. He fell back against the cushions again, letting the tension begin to seep out of his body.

“Do… do you usually get anxious before shows?”

Keith let out a harsh laugh. “Ha! Anxious? More like terrified.” He raised the brush to his hair and pulled it through the strands. “Especially for the bigger ones. And Pidge isn’t here to make sure everything is okay, and the owners didn’t want me to bring Kosmo backstage. So, I just tried to distract myself. But, we saw how well that went.” He paused, then continued, “I’m still glad you came though.”

“Really?” Lance flashed him a nervous smile. “I mean, you kinda invited me while you were drunk, and I thought you’d regret it.”

Keith shrugged. “Sometimes drunk Keith is just sober Keith with looser lips.”

“And the other part of the time?”

“Oh, he’s just a mess.”

Lance let out a laugh alongside Keith.

“I’m serious when I say I do want you here tonight. I’ve seen a ton of people aspire to be musicians, but none of them know what they’re getting into until it’s too late. I… I want to make sure that you know what you’re asking for before we go through with the demo and record label.”

Well, that was all the confirmation Lance needed to remember Keith had no romantic interest in him. It was his fault though. He was the one that let himself think there might’ve been a spark between them in the first place. “Really?”

“Mhm. I’ve seen a lot of people think this is what they wanted and then ended up miserable.” Keith’s words had an indisputable tone of sincerity to them, “I’d really hate to see someone like you get all tangled up in this industry before you realize whether or not this is the life you really want.”

“Oh…” Lance replied, “I just thought you wanted some company or something…”

“I do. And you’re good company. But, I’d also like to let someone know what this kind of life is like before they get into it. It always seems great from afar, but fame has its downsides.” Keith reached for the plastic water bottle on the coffee table, taking a long sip. He sighed when he finished. “I told them no plastic water bottles. And what do they do? Give me plastic water bottles.”

“Next time you’re around, I’ll make sure you get a refillable pitcher.” Lance assured with a hint of laughter.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

The door creaked open, just enough for a woman to pop her head in. Her long blonde hair swayed as she spoke. “We need you for a sound test in five minutes, Keith.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right there.” Keith assured with a sudden smile. She flashed him one in return as he waved for her to leave. Turning to Lance, he re-focused his attention onto the other man. “I… Again, I’m really glad you came. And, um, if you want…” Keith’s eyes flicked down, and his voiced got a bit softer, “You… you could come to my tour bus after the show? I can show you around. If, if you want. You don’t have to.”

Lance gave him a warm smile. “I’d love to.”

Keith’s body visibly relaxed, and his hand boldly came closer to Lance’s, brushing their fingertips together lightly before Keith’s face darted in the other direction, decorated with a faint layer of pink.

“Hey,” Lance curled his fingers around Keith’s own, giving them a light squeeze. “You’re gonna do great. I know it.”

Keith smiled again, his teeth making a brief appearance. Though it captured the same elements of the smile Keith had just flashed at the woman moments ago, something about it felt so different. It was missing the stiffness from earlier, beautiful purple eyes lighting up alongside the pearly whites behind Keith’s lips instead of remaining dull and almost uninterested throughout the short conversation.

Was there really that much of a difference in Keith’s smiles? He’d heard of a performance smile, the type you put on through the whole show even if you hated every ounce of it, but Keith was in the safety of his dressing room, away from the impending concert outside. Keith _had_ just admitted his overwhelming performance anxiety, but there was no way he hated performing to the point he couldn’t even flash a genuine smile anymore, right?

Keith stood from his seat, finishing off the last of the water bottle in his hand. “Hey, can you do me a favor?”

Lance glanced up at him. “Yeah, sure.”

“Make sure this bottle ends up in recycling, not whatever they’re claiming is recycling here.” Keith requested, stepping over towards the mirror on the other side of the room. He tended to his less than perfect appearance, putting his hair back to where it probably was before Lance entered the room.

“Will do.”

“Thanks.” Keith smiled, the action reflected in the mirror and visible to Lance. “So, um, you’re free to stay here. Or you could wander around backstage. Just make sure you have the lanyard and badge with you at all times, or they won’t let you stay. When the show starts you’re allowed to watch from behind on the stage. You just can’t come on the stage itself. Sound good?”

“Yeah. Got it.” Lance threw a thumbs up in Keith’s direction.

Keith pulled a leather jacket off of the coathanger and threw it over his shoulders. He didn’t bother zipping it up, though Lance couldn’t blame him. An almost two hour performance was bound to work up a sweat, especially in something as warm as leather. “I’ll see you after the show.”

“Keith.” Lance called from his seat.

Keith turned his head to look at Lance, freezing in his tracks. His hand was clamped around the doorknob, twisting it without pulling.

“Good luck.”

Keith smiled, a smile without the strained look that had almost accompanied the one towards the woman earlier, then exited the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reputation and history be damned, Lance wasn't going to let some stupid gossip and tabloids ruin his idea of his idol. Especially not when he got to join in on Keith's post-show hang outs.
> 
> Though, maybe he should've listened when everyone said the music industry had its bad eggs too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad to be back with a new chapter, and excited to be continuing on with this fic.
> 
> Important: There's an implied attempted sexual assault in this chapter. Everything referring to it is extremely vague with little detail, and it is only implied. But, for anyone that it may be potentially triggering for, please take care.

Wandering the halls of Madison Square Garden was something that Lance had never pegged himself doing any time in the near future. It was a venue for those who had made it, like  _ really _ made it. Did Keith really think Lance of all people could be this popular one day? After all, Keith did just sell out the whole venue. Lance would never reach that level of popularity. It had taken Keith seven years, and Keith had the luxury of starting much younger than Lance ever would. 

Keith had all of his teenage years to work on his popularity and expand his fan base. Lance already had those years far behind him, wasted.

Though, Keith was right about this being a good experience. Despite the performances Lance  _ had  _ done in his life, none of them were ever of this scale in size or expense. Watching the stage crew put together the effects and testing backdrops only set in the reality of where he was.

Maybe, just maybe, someday he’d be the one on that stage and not just standing backstage.

A pair of men waddled onto the stage, holding a drum set between them. They placed it down in what Lance assumed was the designated spot for the item, and the taller of the two stretched his long limbs while the shorter one let out a snarky comment.

“He’s so stuck up. Who refuses to share a tour bus with their own band?”

“I don’t know. Guess he needs that whole space to himself. Some people are like that. Just need their personal space.”

The shorter one let out a laugh. “Yeah, personal space to get some dick. You saw that video. He’s probably getting railed the whole time.”

“You might want to stop, dude. They’re not going to like it if they hear you talking like that.”

“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.” He replied with an attitude, “He acts all high and mighty, but he’s just a spoiled whore searching for dick.”

“Dude!”

“What? You think he had to  _ try _ to get a record deal? His mom’s a celebrity. He’s just whining.” 

“I don’t think you should make those comments about  _ anyone _ . It has nothing to do with it being Keith or not.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun.”

The other male turned his body away from the man he was working with. “Set up your drums yourself. I have better things to do than listen to you be a dick.” Without another word, he stormed off, harsh steps echoing as he left.

A frown forced its way onto Lance’s face. Were they really judging Keith for something that happened  _ years _ ago? One look at Keith, and his appearance detailed an extraordinary amount of change. Listening to his albums in chronological order only supported the claim. If they were insisting on treating Keith based who he was at eighteen, then they all were denying that they’d had any growth of their own in the last few years.

Well, at least Keith’s fan base didn’t hold such gross opinions of him. Even if there were a few creeps out there, Keith had a million others who adored him and weren’t thinking such things. 

Besides, with a life like Keith’s, it was hard to imagine one asshole was enough to tear him down.

* * *

“How many flags do people give you?” Lance laughed in amusement as Keith folded each individual rainbow fabric into a pile on the coffee table.

“A lot.” Keith hummed to himself as he continued the mundane work. He’d objected to Lance’s offers of help. Something about Lance being ‘a guest’ and other dumb reasons in Lance’s opinion. “You should see Shiro and Matt after a concert though. Both of them have more flags than they know what to do with at that point. They actually make an effort to get Matt bi and trans flags too which is really cool. I like their fanbase a lot actually. They really take Shiro and Matt’s messages to heart, especially with the activism. Though, I guess my fans are pretty excited when they hear me yelling about how I’m kicking homophobes out of my concerts too.”

“Well, yeah. Of course we are.” Lance sat up from the couch cushions that previously held his weight. “I mean, you guys help us feel represented. We spend a lot of time feeling alone, and now we get to look and see some of the most popular musicians being people just like us. Everytime you sing one of your songs about liking a guy, it feels really great to hear.” He paused for a moment, taking his bottom lip between his teeth before speaking again, “I-I struggled a lot with figuring myself out when I was younger, and seeing people like you, Shiro, Matt, and James coming out and celebrating themselves really helped. I know it helps a lot of other people too.”

“I wish I was as good of a role model as you all think I am.” Keith added a harsh laugh to the statement.

Lance crossed his arms over his chest playfully. “Good thing you already are.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me and that you don’t  _ want _ to know about me.” Keith straightened out the pile on the table.

“It can’t be  _ that _ bad, Keith. I told you I’ve been following you since your debut. I’ve been there for everything: the baby faced bad boy phase, the fuck you rebellion phase, coming out as gay and admitting your relationship at the time wasn’t real, the sex tape leak, the  _ Bad Boyfriend _ era as a whole, everything. And I  _ still _ think you’re a good role model.” 

“My statement still stands.” Keith said matter of factly. He stood up straight and stalked towards the mirror, fetching a makeup wipe from the edge of the counter and smearing it across his face. Black smudged from his eyes, and his skin tone became increasingly less even as he cleared his body from the visual enhancement. It was a nice reminder that Keith was just as human as him too, full of the same imperfections that littered everyone else.

Keith shrugged off his sweatshirt, fabric pooling at his feet behind him. “Hey, um, I can’t reach the zipper on the back of this shirt. Can you—”

“Yeah, sure.” Lance sprung to his feet and ambled over to Keith. He curled his fingers gently around the collar and his other fingers around the zipper. With a gentle pull it came undone, exposing broad, muscular shoulders and a toned back. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as Keith shifted his arms slightly, the muscles moving beneath the skin. Extending his hand, he grazed over them with his fingertips.

Keith tilted his head back, attempting to meet Lance’s gaze. “Is something wrong? Did the zipper scratch my back again?”

“I, uh, no, I just thought I saw something.” Lance stammered, retracting his touch as if Keith was on fire, “Yeah, you’re okay.”

“Oh, alright.” Keith shimmied out of the tight fabric, revealing his bare torso. Purple eyes caught blue ones glued to the mirror, accompanied by parted lips, and a smirk pulled at Keith’s features. 

Lance darted his head to the side, a slight heat creeping onto his cheeks. 

“Can you hand me the shirt I left on the couch?”

“Yeah,” Lance cleared his throat, forcing his voice back down a few octaves. He stepped over to the other side of the room, grabbing the fabric and tossing it towards Keith, watching as the other man clothed himself.

Keith pulled the loose t-shirt over his body, pulling at the hem to make it fall over his chest properly. “Ready to see the bus?”

“Yeah, whenever you are.”

Keith grabbed his sweatshirt from the floor, tossing it over his shoulders without a care. The purple and black clothing article rested over him, unzipped and swinging as he moved to open the door for Lance. “By the way, I invited my band too. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh,” He  _ had _ been looking forward to talking to Keith tonight, though he could still do that alongside his bandmates, right? Besides, he  _ was _ supposed to be here to learn about the life of a musician. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Keith flashed him a short smile before following him out the door. “Think you could see yourself here?”

“I mean, I already am.” Lance joked, walking closer to Keith.

“You know what I meant.” Keith let out a soft laugh.

He bumped into Keith’s shoulder playfully. “Yeah. I do. And I don’t know. It seems like a place for the best of the best, like you.”

Purple eyes flicked down, and Keith’s shoulders rose to his ears. 

“You know it’s true.”

Keith gave Lance a silent, playful shove with his hand.

Lance let out a laugh. “Someone can dish it out, but can’t take it.”

Keith rolled his eyes and waved goodbye to one of the security guards. “Why did I invite you? I’m starting to forget.”

“‘Cause I’m cute.”

“Sure.” Keith said with a sprinkle of sarcasm. 

Lance brought his hand over his chest in mock hurt. “Excuse you, I am the cutest man here.”

Keith patted Lance on the back as they ambled through the empty lot towards one of the few remaining vehicles pulled to the side of the road. “Keep telling yourself that.” The bus door opened, revealing a small set of stairs. A warm smile bloomed over Keith’s face as he gave a wave to the driver. “Hey.”

“Hey, Keith. How’d the show go?”

Keith stepped to the side, gesturing for Lance to enter. “It went really well. Loudest crowd so far.”

“And who’s this?”

“Lance. He wants to learn what it’s like to be a musician.” Keith entered the bus and leaned against the small wall separating the stairs and the next room. 

“Oh, is that all?” The driver teased.

Keith’s voice lowered to mumble something only audible to the two of them as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, even if it wasn’t, he’s… he’s not interested. And I shouldn’t take advantage of his curiosity.” 

“There’ll be others.” He said reassuringly.

“I know.” Keith breathed a sigh and turned his attention towards the other people on the bus. 

Lance took a seat on the leather cushions that adorned the sides of the bus. A strawberry blonde woman clad in an unzipped leather jacket, crop top, and black skinny jeans took the seat next to him as she laughed loudly about something he missed. Across from him sat the same two men from earlier, the shorter one threw his arm over the back of the couch as he tipped a can of beer to his lips, and the other dangled his can from a loose grip in his fingertips. A dark-haired man clad in a tight t-shirt entered with a bottle of liquor in each hand and plopped onto the cushion next to the two men. 

The shorter of the two men from earlier was the first to speak to the whole group, “So, Keith, who’s the fresh meat?”

Keith fell back onto the sofa next to Lance. “You do know I can talk to people who I’m not trying to fuck, right? For example, I talk to you, Anthony.”

“Oof.” The dark-haired man who came in with the liquor snickered.

“Not like you’re getting any either, Francis.” Anthony retorted with a disproportionate amount of harshness.

“Dude, chill. We’re just taking a piss out of each other. It’s fine.” The other man from earlier said in an attempt to defuse the accidental tension.

“Anyway.” The woman next to Lance extended the word before continuing, “What’s your name? I’m Lisa. And the three stooges are Anthony, Francis, and Leo.”

“I’m Lance.” He flashed her a large smile.

“So, how’d you and Keith meet?” Francis teased as he tossed one of the two bottles over towards Keith. Lance watched Keith unscrew the top off the half empty bottle and press it to his lips before answering.

“At my sister’s bar.”

“Oh, a bar you say?” Francis snickered.

Keith rolled his eyes before taking a long drink from the bottle in his hands. “You’re all lucky I like you.”

“Want a drink, Lance?” Lisa asked, turning her body towards Lance with a friendly smile.

“Oh, I shouldn’t. I still need to go home after this.” Lance answered with a grimace, “Besides, I’m not twenty-one.”

“I’ll never understand the drinking laws here. Back in the UK we can drink at eighteen, and I turned out just fine. You’ll be fine with a beer or two. Come on Keith, let him stay.” Leo shifted in his seat.

“Yeah. And he could even stay in our bus if you don’t want him here overnight. He seems chill.” Lisa chimed in.

“Do you want to stay the night?” Keith turned to him. “I have a few extra beds on the bus if you want. Or you can stay with Leo, Lisa, Francis, and Anthony.”

“Are you sure?” Lance asked, “I don’t want to, like, impose or anything.”

“Yeah, I’m going to obviously have a problem with you staying the night again.”

“Again?” Lisa inquired with a tongue-in-cheek tone.

“It’s called making friends.” Keith deadpanned.

“Leave him alone, guys.” Leo interrupted, “By the way, Kosmo was sleeping on your bed when we got here, but Lisa put food out for him.”

“Thanks.” Keith said genuinely before taking another sip from the bottle. 

Francis’s eyebrows knitted together as his eyes caught on the semi-clear bottle that had yet to leave Keith’s hands since it had entered them. “Hey, Keith, buddy you might want to slow down.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but keep in mind that if Pidge finds out, she won’t be happy.” Francis warned.

Keith opened his mouth to respond, but Lisa jumped in before any words could come out, “So, Lance, are you from Manhattan?”

“No, I actually live in Queens with my sister, but we grew up in Pennsylvania.” 

“I’m actually from Staten Island. What made you and your sister come out here?” Lisa handed him an unopened can of beer.

“She ended up managing a bar out here, and I wanted a change of pace. So she offered me her guest bedroom. I’ve been working as a musician with a few gigs around the area.” Lance informed.

“Are you any good?” Francis asked, leaning further into the cushions.

Keith rested a hand on Lance’s arm. “He is. Amazing voice.”

Anthony rolled his eyes and added, “You know, being a musician is more than just singing. Everyone thinks they can fucking sing.”

“I-I mean…” Lance shrank slightly in his seat. “I’ve been learning guitar…”

“Wow, you’re like everyone and their mother who’s trying to get a record deal. News flash, just because you can play a few chords and can sing a few notes doesn’t mean you’re any different from every other pretty boy who thinks he’s got talent.” Anthony sneered before finishing off the remainder of his can.

“You know,  _ I  _ got my record deal from playing my guitar at the right place at the right time, right?” Keith reminded with a tone of annoyance, “So, keep your negativity to yourself.”

“Whatever.” Anthony rolled his eyes and huffed before turning his body more towards the wall. He fished another can of beer from the cooler beside his feet and opened it.

Maybe Anthony had a point. He really wasn’t that different from any of the other thousands of people convinced they had what it took to impress a record label. He wasn’t even a pro at any instrument. Nowhere near any of the people he was sharing the space with, especially not Keith, not a man who could play  _ several _ different instruments with ease. Compared to them, he was nothing but some nobody who just happened to be an obsessive enough fan to recognize Keith in a crowd.

Maybe this was all stupid, an unrealistic dream. 

Lisa cupped her hands around the sides of her mouth and connected them to Lance’s ear. The smell of alcohol wafted from her breath as she whispered, “Don’t worry about anything Anthony says. He’s just bitter and jealous Keith has eyes on someone else. I bet you’re great.”

He released the tension from his body. “Thanks.”

She pulled away and gave him another smile as she rested her hand on his shoulder. “Besides, you’re cute. And if Keith doesn’t want you, I might just have to call dibs.”

Keith’s grip tightened on his drink as purple eyes darted away from the duo next to him. He took a long swig as he attempted to drown out the laughter he wasn’t involved in.

Leo frowned. “Hey, Keith, did you eat yet?”

“No.”

“You should have a snack before you drink anymore.”

“I don’t have a show tomorrow.” Keith said with a hint of dejection.

Lance tore his attention away from Lisa, turning his body towards Keith. His lips pulled downwards as he gently rubbed his arm. “You okay?” He asked softly.

“Mhm.” Keith nodded. He shrugged his jacket over himself more. “Just waiting for the buzz to kick in.”

Alright. If he said so.

* * *

Okay, maybe there was a chance Keith was telling the truth earlier. The way his mood lifted into a more bubbly aura as the group found their way down the path of intoxication together served as proof. Empty liquor and beer bottles littered the floor of the bus while laughter and slurred words filled the air, though his sister’s mantra of ‘beer before liquor, never sicker’ deterred him from participating too heavily.

The scent of liquor tainted Keith’s breath as he laughed next to Lance’s face. His descent into drunkenness could almost be played out as a sequence of events, each with a large milestone including his increasing physical contact with Lance. From inches apart, to touching his arm and hand, all the way to shameless gentle holds on his thigh as Keith leaned his weight into him, it seemed as if the infamous drunk Keith was a lot more willing to mingle than his sober counterpart. 

Keith clumsily rested his head on Lance’s shoulder, burying his nose into the other man’s neck as a few slurred words of affection came out. Somehow, the only words of the conversation Lance caught were from Francis and Lisa.

“We need to find you a boyfriend, Keith.” Francis laughed, “Make sure you still give the poor guy some space.”

“I think he’s already found one.” Lisa snickered, not so subtly gesturing to Lance and Keith’s persistent physical contact. 

“Stop.” Keith pleaded, elongating the ‘o’, “You’ll scare him away.”

Lance patted Keith’s head, giving him a soft smile. As much as Keith was very clearly under the influence, there was a part of Lance hoping Keith’s earlier words of his drunk self sometimes being an amplified version of his sober self that he hoped rang true in the moment. Even if he was never going to be able to see it. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Keith pressed himself closer to Lance in a silent show of bubbly gratitude.

Man, was Keith cute when he let his walls down a little.

Keith rose to his feet, swaying before clumsily swinging his hand behind him for something to catch his balance on, which happened to be Lance’s head. A loud laugh escaped him as he unevenly took a step forward. 

“You okay there, buddy?” A fond smile pulled at Lance’s features.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Good. Fantastic.” Keith slurred. He swiped a can of beer from the few remaining unopened drinks and managed to stumble backwards for a couple steps before falling back into Lance’s lap.

He snaked his arms around Keith’s waist, pulling the other man’s back to his chest. Pressing his nose into the crook of Keith’s neck, he soaked in the new body heat in his proximity. The next words left his mouth before his brain processed them, “Hey there, handsome.”

Okay, maybe Lance wasn’t that sober either. But, Keith didn’t seem to be complaining.

Keith leaned his head back onto Lance’s shoulder, purple eyes straining to catch his gaze. He sloppily felt around the top of the can until his fingers caught on the ring. With a lazy push, the drink opened, and Keith raised the metal opening to his lips. Liquid cascaded down his chin and onto the fabric of this clothing. “Fuck.” He clumsily attempted to brush the liquor off before it officially settled into the shirt, losing his grip on the aluminum barely held in his fingers. The can toppled into his lap, drenching Keith’s pants alongside the rest of his outfit.

An annoyed noise fell from Keith’s mouth as he pushed himself up after multiple tries and stumbled over to the door leading further into the bus. He stuck out a hand to catch himself on the wall. 

“Where are you going?” Lisa turned her head to watch him.

“Need new clothes.”

Anthony pushed himself up from his seat, following behind Keith.

“And you?” She asked.

Anthony avoided eye contact. “I need to pee.”

“Careful,” Leo called, “Once you start, you’ll never stop.”

Anthony silently waved off the drunken snickers of his bandmates and let the door close behind him and Keith.

Lisa drummed her fingers against the glass beer bottle in her hands. “One of you guys should go too.”

“What? Why?” Francis laughed, “Keith can put his own pants on.”

“Is Anthony mad or something?” Lance inquired, suddenly disinterested in his drink.

“He’s what you’d call an angry drinker. And Keith has quite a mouth on him when he wants to.” Lisa sighed.

Lance frowned. “I um… I heard him say some not great things about Keith earlier… I’m guessing that’s normal now.”

Lisa let out an exasperated groan. “He’s literally just mad Keith’s not into him. It’s been like this all tour.”

“I’m pretty sure Keith tried to kick him off the tour already, but his manager told him he can’t just fire someone because he doesn’t like them.” Francis chimed in before finishing off his drink.

“If Keith was any type the person Anthony said he was, then you wouldn’t be on this bus.” Leo added.

Muffled words came from the next room, and Lisa turned her attention towards the door separating them from Keith and Anthony.

“You’re worrying too much, Lisa.” Francis insisted.

“I just don’t think we should leave them alone together. Keith’s really drunk.” Lisa bit her bottom lip, her body tensing with each new sound. She sat perched on her seat, as if she was preparing to burst through the door when something unmistakably warranted her attention.

“Fine, fine. We’ll check on them if they’re not out in a few minutes.” Francis replied.

A powerful barking echoed from the room, the noise swiftly descending into a series of growling. 

Lance may have only met Kosmo once, curled up with both him and Keith on a hotel bed while they watched mediocre television reruns, but he had never shown a shred of hostility. Not when Lance first entered the room, and not when him and Keith had spent several minutes playfully smacking each other over and over. There was never a moment where Kosmo let out such a noise towards a complete stranger, nonetheless someone he’d most likely met in the past.

Lisa was right. Something was wrong.

Leo sprung to his feet, shoving the door to the side and barging into the room.

“Get the fuck off me!” Keith spat. He swung his arm, uncoordinated and sloppily, towards Anthnoy and attempted to wiggle out from where he was pinned between his drummer and the mattress. 

Anthony retracted his hand away from Keith, a crimson color smeared across the skin. “What the fuck? You fucking bit me!”

“‘Cause I told you no!” Keith yelled, an untainted mix of fury and fear in his eyes, “Get! Off! Me!”

Leo yanked Anthony off of his place above Keith. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

Keith bolted upwards, sliding back until his body hit the headboard. “Get off my bus!”

Lisa stepped past Leo and Anthony, tunnel visioning for Keith. “Are you okay?”

“I want him off this bus and off my tour.  _ Now _ !” Keith barked as the aggressive noises from Kosmo never ceased.

“Keith—” Leo attempted to get a word in.

“No. I’m done. I’ve been putting up with your creepy shit for months! You’re fired! I don’t care what Pidge says. I’ll get another drummer. I don’t fucking care. Get the fuck out!” Keith continued. He clumsily patted down his pants, shaking hands accompanying his poor alcohol-induced reflexes. His fingers found his phone and yanked it from his pocket before tapping the screen hurriedly. He wasted no time shoving the device against his face. “Ilun, Vrek. I need you on the bus right now.”

“You’re overreacting, asshole.” Anthony spat. His muscles tensed, as if he was going to lunge again at the next thing that sent him over the edge, “I didn’t do anything you didn’t ask for.”

“Bullshit!” Keith screamed, the slur in his words not detracting from the intensity of them.

A loud knock sounded at the door of the bus. Two people in matching shirts marched up the small set of stairs and into the larger area, eyes fixed on Anthony. The rest could only be described as a blur. These two new people, who Lance assumed were Verk and Ilun, walked with purpose, as if they were on a mission. They exchanged a few serious words with Keith, promptly following orders and removing the offending man. The crowd soon dissipated, per Keith’s request. The last to leave before him was Lisa, her kind and comforting words making an effort to calm the nerves shooting through Keith’s body leading up to her departure. He’d offered to go with her, to give Keith the space he seemed to desperately need, though after Keith’s voice almost wavered alongside his vulnerable, pleading gaze, guilt pooled at the pit of his stomach at the mere thought of leaving Keith on his own.

Kosmo curled up to Keith’s side, resting his snout on the man’s lap. If Lance hadn’t seen the previous scene the position would’ve seemed perfectly ordinary, just a man and his dog, but the context of the picture just amplified the protective aura radiating from the large dog. 

Keith shed the fabric covering his torso. His fingers explored the torn threads, eyes staring vacantly at the evidence of Anthony’s aggression.

The silence felt like a heavy blanket, weighing them both down until they were suffocating under their own turbulent emotions. Lance was the first to break it, “Are you okay?”

“I guess.” Keith said, the flatness of his voice troubling at the very least.

Lance bit his bottom lip, gaze moving away from Keith. “Look, I, um, I might not be, you know, the person you vent to or whatever, but if you wanna talk or something…”

“I think I’m just going to sleep.” Keith lurched forward slightly, hand flying to his mouth. He stayed in the position for a long moment before screwing his eyes shut and slowly leaning back into the pillows behind him. A miserable sound escaped him.

“I can go home if you want.” Lance offered. It felt wrong, leaving Keith on his own, but if it was what Keith wanted, Lance wasn’t exactly in a position to overstay his welcome. 

Though, if he was told to leave, he’d at least like to call Lisa onto the bus. Judging by the looks crossing Keith’s face and the events of their first meeting, vomit was imminent.

Lance fisted his hand around the hem of his shirt, pulling at the fabric as silence consumed the bus again.

“Actually… can… can you stay?” Keith seemed to be forcing out the words, as if his brain was fighting him on releasing any information.

“Oh, um, sure.” Lance slowly shifted his weight from leg to leg. “Do, do you want me to take one of the bunks or…?” 

He was selfish for even letting his brain stray there. Moreso for voicing it. 

“No… you can, you can stay in mine…” Keith said softly, eyes still never meeting Lance’s. There was no enthusiasm to his words, nothing that tipped Lance off to the fact that Keith was actually interested in company for the night. Did Keith feel obligated? He might as well clarify. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“I know.” Keith replied as he dropped the ruined shirt into the small garbage pail next to his bed, “I want you to.”

“Even… even after…” He couldn’t force the rest of the sentence out.

“Mhm.” Keith ran his hand over Kosmo’s fur. “I’d rather have someone here. And… well, you’ve never tried anything on me.”

“So, it won’t make you uncomfortable? ‘Cause, like, I get it.”

“If you made me uncomfortable, I’d kick you off the bus.” Keith said flatly.

“Okay.” Lance lowered himself onto the bed, careful to maintain a proper distance between him and Keith.

Keith kicked off his jeans and waited for Kosmo to curl up at the foot of the bed before shifting the covers enough to settle in. He reached over for his jeans, digging through the denim until he pulled out a small object. Keith slid it under his pillow.

“What’s that?”

“A knife.”

Lance didn’t dare to add commentary. He already knew why it was there.

Keith shifted his body to rest his head on the pillow. An unpleasant groan escaped him at the movement.

Lance followed suit. Popping Veronica a text and taking note of Keith’s position. His back faced Lance, body as far as possible to the edge of the mattress. Keith wanted space.

He flipped off the lights, but sleep didn’t come easy.

* * *

He peeled open his eyes, gaze catching nothing but darkness. A muffled mumbling entered his ears as he processed the scene. Keith’s tour bus bedroom. Keith’s tour bus  _ bed _ . 

Was Keith still doing okay?

He turned his head over his shoulder, then his whole body. A pitiful emptiness met him. The only remaining things on the bed beside him were the messed covers and a sloppily laid out towel.

A horrid sound came from what Lance assumed was the bathroom. The knowledge that Keith was on his own and spending the night involuntarily voiding his stomach sent a pain through Lance’s chest. If anyone deserved a break after tonight’s events, it was Keith, though it seemed apparent he wouldn’t get one.

His body begged him to leave the bed, to work on autopilot and stay by Keith’s side as he stuck out the rest of the night, but his brain stood its ground. Keith needed space, and whatever caring instinct was coursing through Lance’s veins did not comply with that need. Maybe in the morning he could tend to Keith’s hangover, but for the moment, all he could do was let Keith deal with his upset stomach independently. 

The muffled words came through much clearer this time, dangling the potential for eavesdropping above Lance’s head. Shamefully, he took it.

“Keith… how much did you drink?” The voice was familiar, the identity of the owner on the tip of his tongue as he spoke.

“Why does that matter? Are you trying to say this is  _ my _ fault?” Keith’s hoarse voice carried a twinge of anger to it.

“No, Keith. I’d never say that, and I’d never think it.” The familiar voice answered, “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. I’ve always been fine.”

“You know that’s a lie.”

“Shut up.”

The familiar voice sighed. “I know you’re upset, so I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. I’ll be able to fill in for a few shows, but I can’t get a flight into LaGuardia or JFK until you’ve already left, so I’ll meet you in Connecticut, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Why don’t you call James? You two have a photoshoot you have to do anyway. I’m sure you could do it in the area if you’re willing to accommodate everyone. Plus, Pidge would love to have that done earlier than scheduled since it still needs Allura’s approval.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll text him. He’s either sleep or drunk right now. It’s late for him.”

“It’s late for all of us.”

“Yeah…” Keith sighed, “I still need to clean the sheets before we leave. I put a towel down so I can still sleep. Didn’t want to wake up Lance.”

“So, I finally get to meet the famous Lance you’ve been telling me about.” The familiar voice teased.

“We’re friends.” Keith said, not returning the other man’s playful tone.

“I know, I know.” The familiar voice assured, “But, try and get some sleep. You need all the energy you can get on tour.”

“So, you’re not mad I broke my promise?” Keith asked hesitantly. 

“No. I know tour is rough on you, especially with how Anthony was acting towards you. Maybe you’re drinking, but you’re still sober in other aspects. I’m proud of you for that still.”

“Thanks, Shiro.” 

That explained the familiarity. Years of listening to interviews and recordings of Takashi Shirogane’s voice left enough of an impression on him apparently.

“Get some sleep, Keith.”

“I will. Night.”

“Night.”

Keith padded back into the bedroom, crawling back under the sheets in the position he occupied before, Kosmo close behind.

\------------

Maybe it was the bed in an unfamiliar place, or maybe it was the events from earlier in the night, but it was as if sandman’s spell was regurgitating him each time it took him. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing for sleep to overcome him again as the darkness of the room surrounded him.

Lance breathed out a sigh, resigning to his sleep-deprived night. His gaze moved about the tiny room, memorizing the odd shape of the walls and how an occasional strip of light managed to pass through the window, illuminating the room briefly. He tried to imagine himself in his own bus, on his own tour, waking up in a new city everyday. Something about it seemed so out of reach, even with Keith’s offer of recording a demo in his hands.

He gripped the edge of the comforter, pulling it closer to his chin. A light tug stole the sheets again as soon as they were closer.

Was Keith awake?

Lance stilled, praying that his lack of movement would open up his senses to tune into any sounds an awake Keith would make. Seconds passed, then minutes, maybe more, as the tranquil surroundings elongated time. 

A sniffle broke the silence. Then, a second one. And then, nothing.

He waited again for the sound, cautious not to make a noise of his own. When it came again, Lance knew what he heard was real. Keith was awake.

Should he say something? He’d spent the night at the edge of the bed, as had Keith, without a single exchange. Keith deserved his space. In fact, he’d pretty much requested it. So, in retrospect, if Keith hadn’t attempted to speak to him during the night it would make sense. Or, maybe Keith just thought Lance was asleep?

Was it worth testing the theory, though? 

Another sound escaped Keith, a longer sniffle, then a short, subtle gasp.

Was… was Keith crying?

“Keith?” Lance whispered, all previous thoughts forgotten. He turned his head over his shoulder, straining his vision to get a view of Keith’s form in the darkness of the tour bus bedroom.

The sounds stopped. If Lance’s night vision had been any worse, the small jerk in Keith’s form would’ve been discreet. Though the information presented it was obvious: Keith was caught in the act.

“I…” He let his voice trail off before starting again, gentler, “I know you’re awake.”

No response. The extreme, sudden silence was almost as good as a confirmation that Keith heard him, though. 

Maybe Keith genuinely wanted to be left alone. It  _ was _ the middle of the night after all, and he hadn’t woken Lance to discuss anything. The fact that he was now feigning sleep only served to further that point.

Still, something about ignoring Keith completely in this moment carried a sense of wrongness to it. Even if Keith didn’t want to talk about it, it still felt nice to know someone else cared, right?

Keith didn’t have to answer him. He just needed Keith to know he was there if he needed him tonight.

“Look, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk to me. I know we’re not super close or anything. I, I just want to know you’re okay.” He paused for a moment, leaving room for Keith to reply before continuing, “You don’t have to say anything, just… let me know somehow.”

When the silence didn’t end, he opened his mouth to speak again, still facing back to back with Keith.

Something shifted at the end of the bed, just missing Kosmo from under the covers. It slid closer to Lance, eventually brushing the skin of his foot and hooking around his ankle.

A sad smile broke out across Lance’s face. He thought a response from Keith would be more relieving, but it only sent a harsh pain through his chest. If anything, it was the opposite of what he expected, the confidence in the truthfulness of his theory only served to remind him of the emotional turbulence happening not even feet away from him.

“Can—Can I help at all?” Lance asked, desperate to take away the problems weighing on Keith. He added, “You, um, you don’t need to talk still… you can just, uh, let me know somehow, I guess.”

Keith’s ankle rubbed softly against Lance’s.

He’d take that as a yes.

“Can I hold you?”

Keith rubbed his ankle again.

Lance slowly rolled himself over, onto his other side. Keith’s back still faced him. He wasn’t sure if it was a sign of defense or vulnerability. The act of refusing to face him left him open to an attack from behind, but also shielding his face kept him safe from explaining his emotions to anyone else but himself.

It was okay though. Either way it was Keith’s comfort level that mattered right now.

He wiggled himself closer to Keith, wrapping an arm around his bare waist and pulling him closer. His knuckles brushed against a foreign fabric. “Is that—”

“Towel.” Keith interrupted, as if he was trying to keep a conversation from the beginning, “I threw up earlier.”

“Are you okay now?”

“Yeah.” It was short and to the point, but lacked the bite that Lance felt should go alongside it. Keith wasn’t angry tonight, just reserved, and Lance couldn’t blame him.

They laid together in silence, skin pressed together comfortingly as the world slowly continued to turn. Another strip of light passed through the window briefly. Even with the stillness between them, the rest of New York City remained restless, a perfect reflection of what Lance could only imagine was going through Keith’s inside and outside.

A hand came up to Lance’s pinky finger, wrapping around it in a single gentle and intimate movement.

“Is… is this okay?” Lance whispered. It wasn’t as if he did it himself, it was Keith’s choice. Though, it was worth assuring that Keith didn’t feel a sense of obligation.

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to.” Keith answered.

Lance pressed his face into Keith’s neck and shifted their hands, interlocking their fingers together. He gave Keith a light, supportive squeeze.

A small sigh escaped Keith. Without facing Lance, he mumbled, “Why couldn’t you have lived in LA?”

“Hm?” Lance raised his head from it’s place beside the pillow and Keith. 

“Nothing.”

“Oh, okay.” Lance pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You… you can sleep. I’ll be fine.” Keith assured, easing into their new position.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ve done enough tours on my own. I can deal with whatever.”

It felt wrong, leaving Keith to his own devices when he was here and ready to help him. But, in the end, he was in his best decision to listen to Keith and his wishes. 

It didn’t mean he’d actually sleep though.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaving was never hard like this. His whole job was just hopping from city to city until he exhausted his list of pre-determined destinations. So, why did someone he met a few days ago make him suddenly dread leaving a place for once?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a few chapters of this story done during Camp NanoWrimo so I hope you all enjoy a couple consistent updates over the next couple weeks :)

Lance peeled his eyes open as the light from the outside of the tour bus called to him. The subtle intrusion was a welcome pseudo alarm clock, working alongside his body attempting to rouse his muscles. He extended his arms and legs, cutting through the empty space beside him. The cold mattress jolted his thought process.

Keith was gone.

He removed himself from the tangle of sheets, swinging his feet off the bed and sitting upright. Sure, Keith was an adult, and he was probably fine, but he was upset last night. It wouldn’t hurt to just check on him. It wasn’t like he could exactly go anywhere. Lance was on  _ his _ bus afterall. 

Planting his feet onto the floor of the bus, he rose. Blue eyes glanced around the room. With a proper chance to take in the sight, it seemed so much smaller than he’d thought last night.

There was also less alcohol to skew his opinion, if he could blame his previous inattentiveness to his surroundings on that.

It was almost nothing but a large bed, a tiny set of drawers, a television, and a mirror. Was this really Keith’s bedroom for months on end? Something about the idea of being a consistent chart topping musician lead him to think the room would be just a little bit more extravagant. 

Muffled talking came from the other side of the thin sliding door. He reached for the handle, then hesitated. The cool air from the vents brushed against his exposed skin. It felt odd to barge in so casually, as if him and Keith were long time best buddies. He probably should clothe himself at the very least. Yeah, they’d cuddled together in their underwear several times, but there was just something different about that and walking around in just his boxers.

He scanned the room, looking for something, anything, to cover himself with, and eventually settled on just his sweatshirt. There was just something that made him wrinkle his nose at the idea of putting on yesterday’s clothes. Yeah, he still had no pants, but it was better than just his boxers and nothing else.

He slid the door open and stepped into the pseudo hallway, a series of bunks on both sides of him. Pulling the curtain to the wayside, he squinted at the sudden influx of sunlight. 

Keith sat on one of the couches, a plain red mug in one hand and his phone in the other. He was clad in a black tank top and boxer shorts, accompanied with a case of bed head. His pale skin amplified the dark bags sitting under his eyes and the deep purple marks that decorated it, the most notable a horrific ring that circled his neck.

Keith sipped his drink, and the potent smell of alcohol wafted over. He turned his head to look at Lance, revealing another dark purple mark on his cheek. “Hey, Lance.”

He bit back a remark about the bruises, even though it was genuinely out of concern, and slid into the seat next to Keith.

Yeah, that was definitely alcohol in the mug, or at the very least mixed in the drink.

 “Morning.” He hummed in response, poking his head over Keith’s broad shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak again but was cut off by the phone in Keith’s hand.

“Who’s this?” A teasing tone entered the familiar voice, as the man on the screen pushed his bangs up with his fingers. He let them fall over his face again, and he was instantly more recognizable. James Griffin. Lance was sitting with one of his sister’s favorite musicians on the other side of the screen.

He couldn’t wait to brag about this.

“This is Lance.” Keith nodded his head in Lance’s direction, then added flatly, “And it’s not like that.” 

James rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m messing with you.” 

“Mhm, sure.” Keith’s tone was laced with sarcasm, “You know I could just end the call, right?”

“But you won’t.” 

Keith let out a playful huff. “Anyway, did you contact your manager?”

“Yeah, he said he arranged for everyone to move the shoot to New York.” James glanced out the window for a quick moment and returned to the conversation. “When do you have to be in Connecticut?”

“Two days at the latest. But, Shiro’s flying out to meet me there tomorrow, so I’m hoping to leave Manhattan today.”

“Is he replacing Anthony?”

“Yeah. Just for a show or two. Can’t just cancel a tour because your drummer is an asshole.”

“I get it. Look, if you need help, I can always ask Ryan to sub too.” James offered, leaning his head back onto the headrest of the car, “You have more people who care about you in this industry than you think.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay.” Keith assured.

“Alright. I have to run. My plane’s ready, and I don’t think my pilot’s going to like it if I’m later than I already am.” James gave the screen a short, hurried wave and began climbing out of the car. “See you soon.”

“Meet you at LaGuardia?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Safe flight.” Keith tapped on the screen, ending the call. He slumped back into the couch and released a sigh. “I swear, I can’t get a break.”

“What happened?” Lance turned his body to face Keith’s exhausted form. His face adorned dark circles under his eyes and a nasty purple welt on one side. When the other man’s arms moved out for a stretch, the decoration of several round scars on the underside of them became more evident as well.

How did he miss the poor shape Keith was in? 

Yeah, it was common knowledge photoshop was used almost always for professional photography and that Keith was essentially in full body makeup for his shows, but this couldn’t be normal. A lot of it just had to be from last night, right?

“I was telling James about what happened with Anthony, and he offered to come visit until either Shiro was on the bus or Pidge got back. But when his manager found out, he decided he wanted to do a full photoshoot before I left the city. Everyone pulls this shit then wonders why I drink.”

Lance furrowed his eyebrows. “Why does his manager want you to do a photoshoot together?”

“We recorded a single together a few months ago, and it’s supposed to go out in a few months as a summer song. We need an album cover. I just thought we were going to do this back in LA.” Keith took a long drink from his mug.

“Oh. Didn’t you guys do another song together on your last album?” Lance asked. He knew the answer to the question, but it didn’t quench the curiosity that bubbled within him about Keith’s relationship with James. Yeah, Keith  _ said _ he wasn’t interested in James, but their constant collaboration and close relationship spoke to some sort of possible closer connection, right?

“Yeah, I did some stuff on his early songs too. Back when he was a pop star. We just compliment each other well musically.” Keith rose and stepped over to the small counter in the room, pouring himself another batch of coffee. He unscrewed a metal flask and poured another liquid in the cup alongside it, confirming Lance’s suspicions. “He was also one of the only people I agreed to work with when I was seventeen.” 

“So, you’re close then?”

“Mhm.” Keith took a sip of his drink and sat back down. “You can help yourself by the way.”

“I’m good, but thanks.” Lance waved his hand in front of his chest to dismiss the offer. “So, um, how did you two get so close then? Like, how did you meet?”

“Middle school.” Keith answered nonchalantly.

Lance choked on his own spit. “Middle school?!” He repeated back to Keith incredulously. 

“Yeah. We grew up together. I would say we went to high school together too, but I ran away from home around the time I was supposed to start.” Keith answered.

“So, um, can you explain something to me?”

Purple eyes darted across the room in a hint of confusion. “Um, sure?”

“So, Krolia’s your mom, right? The talk show host.” Lance started. Before he could continue, Keith cut him off.

“Oh, that… that’s complicated.” His fingertips drummed against the side of his mug. “I didn’t exactly live with her ever. She never had legal rights as my guardian. First, it was my foster families, then my old manager. They wanted me to come to LA to start a career, so my old manager offered to legally be my guardian so they could make a whole loophole or something. I don’t know. No one really asked my permission for it.” Keith’s eyes dropped to the floor as he gave the information.

“Keith,” Lance bit his bottom lip, then continued his statement, “I don’t want to come off as rude, but that’s kinda sketchy.”

“I know, I know, okay.” Keith replied harshly, “I told you, no one asked me. They just told me to sign some papers, and I was fourteen and dumb.”

“Sorry, I didn’t—”

“Fuck, no, fuck. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t get mad at you.” He placed the coffee mug to the side and dropped his face into his hands. A small tremble entered his fingers as he drew in an unsteady breath. “I just try to pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Okay, um, we don’t have to talk about it then.” Lance tapped his index fingers together as he dug through his brain for a new topic. “So… tell me about James then. My sister loves MFE.”

“We weren’t exactly close before he got signed, but once he came to LA, he didn’t really have anyone since his family didn’t come. He got homesick a lot. He used to try to convince me to visit Flagstaff with him back before he turned eighteen, but I told him there’s nothing left for me there. Sometimes he still tries, but usually it’s because he’s drunk.” Keith raised his head from where his hands held it and retrieved his mug. He took a drink before going on again, “He’s always been more put together than me though. When I was getting detention and ditching class, he was getting perfect grades. Sometimes I wonder what his life would’ve been like if he didn’t drop out for the record deal he got.”

“Do you ever wish you did anything else?” Lance asked. It was odd to think someone as successful as Keith had any other dreams for his life. He was topping the charts consistently, but he was also just another person, and everyone had their own dreams they didn’t ever get to accomplish, right?

Keith shrugged weakly. “I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly the picture perfect idea of a good kid. I’d probably just be dead or in prison if I didn’t get signed. I mean, who knows, maybe I would’ve gone straight at some point, but I don’t know.” He sipped his drink. “What about you? What’s your plan if you don’t make it big?”

“I don’t know. I’ve thought about it, yeah, but every time I think about it, it just has to be something with music. Songwriter, music teacher, broadway, anything as long as it has music.”

A small smile pulled at Keith’s lips but didn’t dare to reach his eyes. “I wish I still had that much passion.” He rose to his feet, finishing off the liquid in his mug once he was standing. Stepping over towards the counter, he placed it down gently and turned back towards Lance. “Hey, a bit off topic, but can you do me a favor?”

Lance sat up. “Yeah, what is it?”

“You have a washing machine in your apartment, right?” Keith swung a hand out behind him, settling his hand on the counter and leaning his weight on it.

“Yeah. Veronica said it was something she needed because of her work schedule.” Lance paused for a moment, then rolled his eyes playfully as he mumbled, “I  _ may _ also be extra enough that I wanted it too.”

“Um, could I maybe wash my sheets at your place then? I puked on them last night…” Keith winced as the words left his mouth, embarrassment written all over his face, and padded over towards where Kosmo occupied the other couch peacefully. He shifted his weight up onto his toes and opened a small cabinet. “I tried a laundromat once, and I ended up getting my stuff stolen by someone who followed me in. Creep probably sold it on eBay or something.” He lugged out a bag of dog food, knelt down, and drug out a metal dog bowl from the corner. Tipping the bag over, he let the contents spill out and into the bowl, managing to make a fairly clean pour with only a few casualties that hit the floor instead.

“Yeah dude, wouldn’t put you through that again.” Lance stood, ambling over towards Keith. “Do you have any trash bags or anything? We can carry them in those. Do you have any other clothes you wanna wash too? I don’t mind.”

“Ah, no, I’m good, it’s really just the sheets.” Keith insisted waving his hand, “I don’t want to impose.”

He placed a gentle hand on Keith’s arm. “I really don’t mind.” 

“No, no, it’s okay. But, could we wash them soon? I’m supposed to pick up James from LaGuardia Airport.” Keith requested with a slight sheepishness to his tone.

“Yeah, yeah, no problem. How do you wanna get to Queens? I’d offer to guide us on the subway, but I don’t think you want to lug your laundry on it. Also, I don’t know if they’ll let Kosmo on with you.”

“He’s well behaved. He won’t be an issue if I leave him here for a few hours.” Kosmo bounded over, and Keith bent down to run his hand over the thick fur on the dog’s coat. “Um, I can call an Uber I guess.”

“Yeah, I can go wrap up your stuff while you do that.” 

Keith dipped his head down, eyes glued to the actions on his phone. His free hand remained on Kosmo. “Oh, thanks. There are extra bags in the bathroom.” 

Lance flashed him a smile, then exited into the next room.

* * *

Lance hummed along to the silly jingle that radiated from the television. Shifting his position, he dropped his head into Keith’s lap, nuzzling at his thigh. The plush cushions pushed together, crowded from the hand-me-down throw pillow wedged between them and the arm rest. In retrospect, Lance had been the one to kick it there when he decided to cuddle up to Keith, so he couldn’t exactly complain about the fact the cushions wouldn’t lay flat now.

Keith threaded his fingers through Lance’s dark brown locks, pushing them through and combing the strands absentmindedly. He placed his phone down onto the armrest closest to him and moved his gaze to meet Lance’s own. “Do you mind if I vape inside? I’ll go outside if you want.”

“You vape?” Lance asked with a twinge of amusement.

“Trying to quit smoking. It’s been the only thing actually able to help make a difference.” Keith reached into his jeans pocket, slipping out a small teardrop shaped object. He spun it around in his fingers. “It’s better for the environment than regular cigarettes too.”

“Then go for it. I don’t care as long as you’re not one of those people who blow the vape in people’s faces.” Lance reached his hand behind him, blindly slapping the back of the couch in search of the blanket often draped over the cushions.

“I’m not an asshole.” Keith removed his hand from Lance’s hair and wrapped his fingers around the blanket. He pulled it over Lance’s form and rested his hand back on the other man’s head, grazing his thumb tenderly over Lance’s cheek. A warm smile spread over his face, and his eyes softened.

It had been a long time since he didn’t want to leave a city. Even longer since it was because of a person.

Maybe it was for the best Lance didn’t like him in the same way. It was his job to hop from city to city and never truly stay in one place too long. In a few days, he’d be long gone, and Lance would be going back to his normal everyday in Queens as if they’d never been more than a chance friendship.

The repetitive thud of the drier echoed throughout the room, mixing with the gentle television audio. He didn’t have much longer. Soon the machine would finish its job, and Keith would be on his way to a photoshoot and then another state. Maybe it was the lost teenage years that he longed for that made him wish he could stay just a little longer, to curl up on the couch, cuddle up to Lance, and pretend that his tour and career didn’t exist. No one needing him to constantly do things, to constantly be reachable, to constantly smile like he was some sort of puppet of the music industry, just the tranquility of an anonymous life in New York City. 

Lance’s life was so peaceful, so private, the knowledge that he’d trade it all for a lifetime of cameras thrust into his face was truly astounding. If he had the choice, he’d trade lives with Lance in a second.

He shook the thought away. That would be selfish. Yes, Lance wanted it now, he wanted to be the center of attention while he wasn’t currently it. The grass was always greener on the other side. But, the moment he fell into Keith’s shoes he’d know the true hell of a life with paparazzi at every corner.

It was truly astonishing that it was considered a glamorous life to strive for.

He pressed the tip of the suorin drop to his lips, inhaling in an attempt to distract himself from the inevitable that was about to happen in a few hours. For some odd reason, it hurt extra to leave Lance. He banged people while on tour, then left for the next city without a second thought in the past, but for some reason, this man who he hadn’t even managed to kiss had him dreading the moment he would be leaving the overcrowded city. 

Curse his stupid heart for caring about others and their dreams.

He could’ve been cold and unfeeling, like all the other successful people in the industry, clawing their way up by using others as stepping stones. Instead, he had to care enough to have a moral compass. 

Though, if absolutely everyone in the entertainment industry treated each other as pawns, he would’ve been six feet under by now. Caring too much must of been his burden to bare in exchange.

He glanced down at Lance again, taking in the content smile that covered Lance’s face as the other man mindlessly watched a mediocre rerun that played on the television.

Why did leaving him behind feel so impossible?

Though, he  _ did _ have the resources to take Lance along with him on tour—

No. That was selfish. He was being selfish again. It wasn’t fair to drag Lance along on tour and throw him into a shock of hell-raising paparazzi and reporters who didn’t know the meaning of personal space.

Even if Lance seemed to be begging for that life.

No. Lance just didn’t know. Saying otherwise was taking advantage of him.

But, maybe bringing Lance along for a show or two wouldn’t be so bad. In fact, it could be just the thing to show him what it was really like to be on a tour, performing show after show after show and being way too well acquainted with sleep deprivation. 

Just a few shows, only around the northeast. No more. No flights across the globe and no long trips across the continent. Only enough shows to give Lance a taste of life as a performer. That was a fair compromise, right? He would drop Lance off at his apartment in a month or so. He wasn’t going far, and he would be close enough to go home whenever he wanted. Keith would even pay for his trip back if he didn’t like it. Lance would still have all the freedom to leave.

The freedom Keith never had.

He dug his fingers through Lance’s hair again, eliciting a hum from the other man. A few more weeks with Lance, and Keith could definitely kick his attachment to him. To be fair, Lance would probably push him away first. Keith had a habit of making people not like him once they passed through the celebrity persona. 

He pressed the drop to his lips again, inhaling, then exhaling. “Hey, Lance.”

Blue eyes tore themselves away from the television and glanced up at Keith. Innocent and full of life. Were people outside the entertainment industry usually like that? “Hm?”

“I…” Keith bit his lip, rethinking his sentence before trying again. Why was this so hard? Lance was just a person, a person who thought highly of him. A  _ fan _ . He’d spoken to millions of them. Why was Lance so hard compared to them? “So, you really want to be a performing musician, right?”

“Yeah. I’m holding you to the promise about recording a demo. I hope you know that.” Lance added the last sentence with a lighthearted laugh. 

The entertainment industry was going to destroy Lance. Those bright blue eyes and cheerful laughter would be snatched from him without a second thought, all for the sake of more profits.

Keith stroked Lance’s soft skin with his thumb, gliding over his cheek as Lance’s face glowed with his untroubled display of emotion. “Well, I had a thought…” His voice trailed off before he gathered his confident enough to continue. Why was Lance so difficult to talk to? This should’ve been easy. “I was thinking that maybe you’d like to, I don’t know, come with me on my tour bus for the next few shows? I have a couple performances north of here, but then I loop around and come back to play the PNC Center in New Jersey, so I could drop you off in Queens before I go there. I thought maybe it might be good for you to see what life on tour is like, so you know before you end up stuck in it if you don’t like it.”

Lance sprung up off of Keith’s lap, eyes wide. “Wait! Are you serious? You’re not fucking with me, right?”

“No! No!” Keith shook his hands in front of his face. “I wouldn’t be that mean.”

 Lance’s lips split into a large smile, white teeth poking through and tears cresting on his bottom eyelids. His arms opened and enveloped Keith in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal.” Keith insisted, stumbling slightly over his words.

Lance pulled back dramatically, hands keeping their grip on Keith’s shoulders. “Are you kidding?” He exclaimed, “You’re offering me a place on your tour for a few weeks! That’s something most people never get to experience unless it’s their own tour!”

“Yeah, but, I have the money for it. It’s not that big.”

“Okay, Keith, stop right now. You need to realize you’re a nice guy, okay? Most people who are as famous as you never go out of their way for people like this. Let yourself believe you’re nice for once.” Lance insisted with a small amount of force on Keith’s shoulders to assure he was listening to him.

Keith gently removed Lance’s hands from his shoulders but kept them in a delicate hold as he continued speaking with him. “Yeah, but you’re the one letting me use your washing machine, and you’re the one who walked me to your apartment when I was drunk and threw up in the subway station, then proceeded to let me stay in your bed and lent me clothes afterwards. You’re the nice one here.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who let me watch your Madison Square Garden show from backstage for free and invited me to hang out on your tour bus after. You’re not taking any kindness for granted, so don’t think I’m seeing it that way.” Lance released his weight and fell onto Keith, his back making contact with Keith’s chest. “Besides, if you’re  _ that _ concerned that this is all one sided, then cuddles make up for it in my mind.”

“You sure?”

“Hundred percent.” Lance chirped. He pulled Keith’s arms around his waist and snuggled closer. “Besides, I haven’t had any good cuddles since I broke up with my ex.”

Keith shifted his position to avoid pressing his back awkwardly into the armrest. “I think I asked you a little over text, but the songs on your CD are about her, right?”

“Yeah.” Lance breathed out a sigh, “I mean, I’m kinda over her now, but it doesn’t mean the whole thing didn’t suck. Like, we were together for years. A break up like that stings, ya know?”

“I’ve only really dated one person for real.” Keith admitted. He rested his chin atop of Lance’s head, subtly breathing in the sweet scent of Lance’s shampoo. “I’ve liked a few people, but dating’s too complicated these days.”

“I can’t imagine you having a hard time getting a date though. I mean, you’re a solid ten, and you’re famous. Like, how can it get any easier?” Lance swung his arms around as he spoke.

“When you’re this famous everyone’s in your business  _ all the time _ .” Keith groaned as he said the last three words, “Have you seen the magazines? In the last three months, I’ve had to work with a PR team to dispel rumors that I’m dating Shiro  _ again _ . And, I know I’m going to have to deal with that again when James and I end up dropping our new song together. I can’t even have guy friends without everyone assuming we’re together, and that just makes dating complicated too. Because if I mention  _ anything _ about possibly liking someone, people are digging through my social media, songs, and personal life to figure out who it is, and it’s tiring. I don’t get the whole testing the waters phase of dating because the moment I’m seen with anyone it’s a huge deal and its scares people away.” Keith lowered his forehead into Lance’s locks. “I try not to date anymore to have some sort of illusion of a private life. Besides, the first person I dated was because my manager told me to, and the second one wrote a song that people like to make fun of me with, so what’s the point?”

Lance frowned and tilted his head back to catch Keith’s eyes. “There’s going to be someone out there for you if that’s what you want.”

“I’m over it.” Keith replied, “You give up certain things when you become a celebrity, and a personal life is one of them. I never really had one anyway, so it’s not that hard to give up since I don’t really know what I’m missing, I guess.”

“Keith, I’m serious. If you want to find someone, you will. My older brother thought he wouldn’t find someone with his constant traveling for work, but his wife is really understanding about it. It doesn’t mean it’s easy, but it can still happen.” Lance took Keith’s hand into his own, interlocking their fingers together. “Trust me.”

He pressed his face into Lance’s hair again, furiously fighting off the heat rising to his cheeks. He needed to change the topic before he scared away yet another person. “Tell me about your ex.”

“Oh,” Lance’s eyes widened for a split second before he leaned his cheek into Keith’s arm. “well, her name’s Jenny. We went to high school together. She had a thing for musicians I guess, ‘cause she loved when I wrote songs for her. But, she had some issues with my sexuality though, and it kinda dug into our relationship. Looking back, I think she was just insecure, but it didn’t make it hurt less. The final straw ended up being my move to the city.” Lance danced his fingertips along the exposed skin of Keith’s forearms. “She didn’t want to be long distance and asked how she could expect me to be faithful if she wasn’t there, brought up some things about my sexuality, we got in a fight, and that was it. Makes me wonder if in another life we would’ve worked out, ‘cause we didn’t really have any issues until I came out to her, you know?”

“Oh man, I get you.” Keith tilted his head back. “Ever since I came out, I was getting sexualized to no end. People out there are going to suck, but you’ll find the ones who accept you. For me, it was people like Shiro, Matt, and Lotor who took me in when I was a lost teenager without family to fall back on. If you have people who don’t care for you, then find ones who will.”

“Hmm, sounds suspiciously like what I just told you. Doesn’t it?” Lance flashed him a cheeky smile.

Keith rolled his eyes. “I really just signed up for a whole month of you, didn’t I?”

“Yep.” Lance playfully tapped Keith’s nose. “Don’t regret it too soon.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little taste of the cameras, a little taste of the paparazzi, just a small exposure to the life of the famous. Though, something about it wasn't exactly as encouraging as Lance hoped it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is doing well, here's the consistent update I promised last chapter.

Meeting James Griffin had a surreal feeling to it. So did meeting Keith, but he had touched Keith, exchanged secret words with him, and watched him engage in some less than favorable mixing of drinks. James Griffin seemed like an entity that had done no wrong, as if he wasn’t even truly human.

Was meeting all of Keith’s friends going to be like this?

James carried himself with an impenetrable poise that could knock someone dead. Untouchable. Lance saw it time and time again on television and in concert, but the fact that it existed outside of performances was downright intimidating. It was as if he was daring someone to start something with him, knowing that they wouldn’t try. A confidence Lance didn’t think he would ever know. Did he get some sort of training? 

 Though, on the flip side of things, the clash of James’s perfect professional style and Keith’s rugged bad boy esque attire would make a pretty iconic album cover.

An array of cameras and lights were placed around the area, all pointing towards the backdrop Manhattan already provided them. If anyone outside of James’s and Keith’s personal crews heard about the shoot, it would be impossible to get off the rooftop without a hassle, though maybe that was something the duo was used to at this point. 

Keith sat on the concrete of the rooftop casually, one leg bent in a triangle with the surface he was sitting on and the other bent underneath it. He leaned his weight on his free hand, while the other held a cigarette. James complimented him with a cross legged sitting position and a gentle gaze in his direction. 

James joining MFE made it very easy to forget he spent his teenage years as a non-threatening teenage pop star. His transition into rock music seemed to do nothing to take away his skill from playing the old part though.

“Keith, that’s not the outfit we talked about.” One of the directors of the shoot pointed out.

“Yeah, and I told you I’m not wearing those shorts.” Keith answered back with a hint of agitation.

An exasperated sigh escaped the director. “Just put the shorts on so we can do the shoot.”

“I don’t see why it’s necessary for me to wear them.” Keith glared at the director as if this was not the first time they were having this conversation.

“Because it’s part of the shoot, Keith.” The director said Keith’s name with a special type of venom.

“Then we do it without the shorts or without me.” Keith’s tone shifted, bordering on anger.

“I shouldn’t have to—” 

James cut off the director. Something about the way he spoke came off so cool and collected, while also radiating a sense of authority. “Can we take the shot already? It doesn’t matter if he’s wearing shorts or not. He looks fine.”

“I’m allowed to call out difficult behavior in _my_ shoot.” The director spat back.

“I can find another director for this shoot if you’re not going to take the photo.” James replied. His voice was even, but the underlying seriousness remained.

The director shot him a glare, followed by a roll of his eyes before continuing on with the shoot.

Bright flashes of light consumed Lance’s vision periodically as James and Keith both followed instructions for new poses, some still sitting, others standing, and a few entering each other’s personal space in a less than platonic way.

Something about the latter poses poked at his feelings in the most unpleasant of ways.

“Closer.” The director instructed.

“Closer?” Keith scoffed from his place close to James, one hand on the other man’s shoulder, “What do you want me to do? Kiss him?”

Something dropped to the pit of Lance’s stomach. A strange wave of sickness accompanied it as Keith’s new argument with the director dissolved into background noise. Keith had mentioned that people thought he was dating his friends before, so that meant him and James were completely platonic, right? That comment was just Keith being Keith. Yeah, there was a photo or two of the pair kissing that circulated the internet a few years back, but it was taken during a performance they did together. Plus, Keith mentioned in an interview that they kissed because they were trying to make a point, not because they were actually attracted to each other. He was just reading too far into all of this. Besides, if Keith _was_ into James, then he would’ve made it known somehow, right?

Keith pressed his forehead into Lance’s shoulder, leaning his weight into him with an audible groan. “Do you still have my jacket?”

“Yeah, right here.” He stroked Keith’s hair comfortingly and handed him the hunk of fabric.

Keith leaned back and dug through the pockets. He retrieved something and slung the jacket over his right shoulder. 

“So, um,” Lance shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “Where’s James?”

The object became more visible, clearly his suorin drop once he pressed it to his lips. He exhaled a cloud of vapor away from Lance before turning his head towards him. “Can you hand me my water bottle?”

Lance reached over, passing the metal container over to Keith.

Keith twisted the large stainless steel cap off, releasing the pungent scent of alcohol into the air. He tilted the container to his mouth and took a few quick sips before answering Lance’s question, “He’s arguing with his shoot director.”

“About?”

Keith flicked his eyes into a small roll and slipped his phone out of the pocket of his black ripped skinny jeans. He swiped across the screen a few times and flipped the device towards Lance. “He wanted me to wear this. I told him no. He wants to pretend that conversation never happened.”

The screen displayed a mannequin adorning a t-shirt similar to the one Keith was currently wearing and a pair of extremely revealing denim shorts. “So,” Lance elongated the vowel in the word, flicking his eyes up to Keith’s, “is James on your side or his?”

“Mine. He knows how these people always get with me.” Keith took another drink from his bottle. He rubbed at his right eye briefly. “They think just because I was willing to parade around in skimpy outfits at eighteen that I’ll do it now. Especially since half the time they just want to see me like that because they’re creepy. The other half is just all about how much attention it got me to look like that, and they want money.” 

James stepped over towards them, resting a gentle hand on Keith’s upper back. The sheer casualness of the action was astounding. Maybe Lance too was also guilty of forgetting internationally famous celebrities had close friends? In retrospect, it made sense, celebrities were people too, but for some reason, it never fully occurred to him that other celebrities would be such close friends with each other, especially when Keith seemed to make so many efforts to keep a physical distance from others in public.

“You know, I could smell that five feet away.” James said pointedly, head gesturing towards Keith’s red water bottle.

“Maybe if your director wasn’t being an asshole then I wouldn’t need it.” Keith replied, unphased.

“Except you already had it on you when you got here.” James crossed his arms over his chest, as if he was a disappointed parent.

“Like you have room to talk, Mr. Let’s-Go-Visit-Flagstaff-Together-When-I’m-Drunk.” 

James let out a defeated sigh. “You used to at least try and hide it.”

“Well, maybe if I didn’t have cameras constantly in my face, I wouldn’t need it to relax.” Keith huffed but made no effort to keep James away from him.

Well, at least someone in Keith’s life seemed to be concerned about him and his well being outside of his music.

James’s attention shifted over to Lance. He straightened his posture and added a warm smile to his face, extending his hand out and waiting for Lance to take it. Once Lance reciprocated the action, he spoke again, “James Griffin. You’re Keith’s new boyfriend, right?”

Keith’s eyes widened, and he choked on the liquid in his mouth. He swallowed it and forced out, “I told you, we’re not together!”

“Wait,” James’s pupils narrowed for a brief moment, then flicked over to Keith, “I thought you were kidding.”

“No.” Keith confirmed, “I-I was serious.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah…”

“I…” James cleared his throat, attempting to return the fluidity to his movements. “I’m sorry.”

Keith crossed his arms, body slightly turned away from the other two men. He bit his bottom lip lightly. “It’s okay.”

“Anyway,” James forced his focus back onto Lance. “You’re Lance, right?”

“Yeah,” Lance added a laugh to his answer. It was unneeded, yes, but if anything it did cut through the part of the tension he felt somehow responsible for. To be fair to James, there was a part of holding Keith’s jacket and watching his belongings while he observed the photoshoot that probably did look quite domestic to outside eyes. “That’s me.”

“Well, boyfriend, friend, or fan, it’s nice to meet you.” James’s hands retreated into his pants pockets. “Are you from around here?”

“Mhm.” Lance nodded. “Queens.”

“You know, if you’re not going to go to LA, New York is another great place to get your career going. Keith said you wanted to get a recording career.” James said, keeping consistent eye contact, the aura of professionalism never fading, “Actually, one of my bandmates grew up in Manhattan.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and handed it over to Lance. “Give me your number, and I’ll tell my manager to send you a list of places that’ll work with you. Just tell them which one you want to go to, and I’ll let them know MFE sent you there.”

Lance held the phone in the palms of his hands, as if he’d just been given a priceless jewel. Was James Griffin actually helping him too? Without even asking to hear him perform? “Really? I-I mean you haven’t even heard me sing yet.”

James nodded. “I trust Keith if he says you’re good.”

“Oh, I, thanks.” He tapped his number into James’s contacts, making sure to add a memorable tag to differentiate himself from the endless list of people his name would be alongside. The last thing he needed was for James to forget who he was in a few days.

James turned his gaze to Keith. “By the way, they said the photos are fine, and we don’t have to retake them. I don’t care what you’re wearing, and it seems like he’s the only one who does.”

Keith turned towards him. “Does that mean we’re done for the day?”

“Yeah, they’re going to pack up and then we can head to your bus and make for Connecticut.” James pointed his thumb behind him in some arbitrary direction, as if he actually knew the direction of the parked bus from the top of the skyscraper. 

Keith screwed the lid of his water bottle back on, failing to mask the scent he’d already managed to taint the air with. He leaned back onto the table behind him, bracing himself with one hand. “Bets for how many cameras are going to be outside this building when we get downstairs?”

“I say twenty? I’m not as popular as I used to be, and this song is going under my label.” James answered nonchalantly.

“Yeah, because everyone liked watching you be a teenage pop star.” Keith joked.

“I play the part well.” James answered with a shrug, “Besides, everyone loved watching you stir up shit with Sendak back in the day. Neither of us were exactly popular then for the right reasons.”

Keith inhaled from his drop. “Fair.” 

“So, um, what’s it like exactly?” Lance played with the hem of his sleeve. “Walking out of shoots like this with a ton of people outside?”

“It is what it is.” James said with another half-shrug, “It’s not something you can do a lot about, so you just put up with it.”

“They always have the most irrelevant questions to ask. I hate it.” Keith added with an exasperated tone, “If they wanted to ask those questions, they can just ask for an interview. But, I just want to walk down the street in peace.”

“Remember when we went out to that diner in Phoenix and that one guy from middle school wouldn’t leave us alone and kept asking for an autograph? He started acting like he was our best friend even though he didn’t want anything to do with us before then.” James turned his head to glance at the photo crew at the end of his sentence.

“You mean everyone who knew me in Arizona besides you?”

“Fair.”

Keith shrugged his jacket on over his shoulders and stepped closer to Lance. “Ready to head down?” 

“Me?” Lance shut off the screen on James’s phone and looked up at Keith.

“Mhm.” Keith slipped his vape back into his jeans pocket.

Lance nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready. I just don’t know what exactly I should do if there are reporters…”

James waved his hand. “Don’t worry about them. They’ll probably think you’re part of the photo crew and leave you alone.”

“You act like you know from experience.” Keith teased.

“I may have brought someone to a music video filming before.” James confessed easily, adding a shrug to his words. He moved closer to the duo, taking his phone back from Lance.

“Yeah, and then you FaceTimed me later to talk about how you thought they were really attractive.” Keith opened the door to the inside of the building. Grazing Lance’s arm with his fingers, he guided the other men along with him. 

“As if you haven’t done the same thing.” James replied.

Keith rolled his eyes, then glanced at his phone for a brief moment. “My driver says he’s outside, so we can just walk right on the bus. Ilun and Vrek are waiting at the doors.”

“Wow, you thought ahead for once.” James followed Keith and Lance down the winding staircase of the building.

Keith replied dryly, “Ha, ha.” 

“Can’t we take the elevator?” Lance whined. Yeah, he had taken the stairs in his apartment building when the elevator broke last year, but that didn’t mean it was a positive memory of his or that he needed any sort of repeat of the time, especially if it included even more sets of stairs than the ones he previously tackled with his sister.

“We have better chances of avoiding paparazzi if we leave out the fire exit.” Keith said matter of factly, placing his hand on the handrail and using it to swing his weight across the platform with ease, “Besides, if you get into an elevator, you’re cornered.”

“In Lance’s defense, you are worrying a little too much.” James followed close behind, matching Keith’s steps. “This isn’t big enough of an event that you’ll be swamped.”

“I don’t even have a pair of sunglasses. And I don’t want to pay a ton of people off to not say anything that I’m here, because that’s been what half my stops on this tour have been if I’m not performing.” Keith answered, not budging on the subject.

James let out a defeated sigh, as if this argument had been had before between them. 

When Keith’s hand finally reached the handlebar of the metal door, he froze, leaning his head towards it. His face skewed into a focused expression, eyes vaguely pointing to the door and body refusing to budge as they waited in silence. “I don’t hear anything, let’s go.”

“What about Ilun and Vrek?” James asked.

“I told them to stand in front of the bus.” Keith informed. 

It was done as soon as Keith pushed open the door. The first few moments went by peacefully, just the three of them booking it towards Keith’s tour bus. Barely seconds later, the whole atmosphere around them melted into a haze of voices and flashing lights with no rhythm. Mounds of questions, some innocent and some targeted at more private areas of life, piled on top of each other and cascaded down around them like an indecipherable rockslide. The pathway between them and the bus seemed miles long, and closing in at every second, getting narrower and narrower with each camera flash and ill-timed question.

It was enough to make even the most confident of people choke on their own spit in an attempt to please everyone in the vicinity. 

Was this Keith’s daily life whenever he stepped outside his house? James’s?

A hand reached out and grabbed Lance’s, pulling him along and through the crowd. He stumbled onto the bus, and Ilun and Vrek stepped on before the doors shut behind them.

James plopped down onto the couch in the main room, and the gentle thud of the bus against the road was all the indication needed that they were escaping the situation.

“Are you okay?”

Lance flicked his gaze up to Keith, blue eyes meeting purple ones as he watched Keith softly lift the hood off his dark hair. When did Keith put that on?

“Yeah, I-I’m okay.” He forced his muscles to relax, releasing the tension he apparently accumulated in the short sprint to their vehicle.

Keith’s knuckles and thumb pressed lightly against Lance’s cheek. “Okay. You froze when the first paparazzo stopped us.”

“Oh… I did?” The words came out dejectedly. Yeah, it was a bit overwhelming to be thrust into, but he couldn’t have just completely frozen in the middle of it. This was an important part of surviving in the life of a famous musician, and he had just failed right in front of both Keith and James. The two people who were willing to help boost his career. What if they wanted to rescind their offers? They just found out he probably wouldn’t be able to handle the industry and that all their efforts were being wasted. Keith was probably trying to figure out how to kick him off the tour bus right now.

“Yeah.” Keith’s lips curled into a gentle smile, eyes softening alongside it. “It’s okay. It’s overwhelming at first. You get used to it eventually.”

“Really?” Lance forced out. Keith had been extending kind actions towards Lance for the whole week, but it was starting to feel like his kindness was a never ending well with the caring words and considerate attitude that came from him even now. How was Keith not tired of the constant questions and cluelessness about an industry he should’ve known more about before prompting Keith with his requests for stardom?

Keith nodded, never losing the comforting smile that his face adorned. “Want some water?”

“Yeah, actually that would be great.”

Keith patted Lance’s shoulder gently before turning away and towards the small kitchenette inside the lounge of the bus.

He took a few steps further into the interior of the bus, reaching the start of the dual couches and plopping himself down next to James. Turning his head, he watched as Keith leaned on to the balls of his feet to reach the cabinet over the sink. Kosmo brushed against his legs as he pulled out a clear glass, begging for attention, something Keith was more than happy to indulge him with. He squatted, pulling Kosmo’s head closer for a peck on the dog’s fluffy forehead before rising to his full height once more. A smile tugged at Lance’s lips. If anyone was winning the most loved pet award today, it was definitely Kosmo.

Keith stalked over to Lance, lowering himself down onto the cushions between the two men as he handed Lance the drinking glass. He angled his body towards Lance, one hand resting on the top of the other man’s shoulder and the other playing with the belt loop of his jeans. Concerned purple eyes kept their gaze focused as the water disappeared past Lance’s lips. “Any better?”

“Yeah, thanks.” He handed the glass back to Keith and leaned back against the back of the couch, “So, what happened to ‘maybe twenty reporters’?”

“That’s James being humble.” Keith leaned into Lance’s side. His arms wrapped around Lance’s right one, and his head lolled onto Lance’s shoulder. There was a sense of ease to it all, no forcing himself to close the gap between their bodies, no awkwardly attempting to communicate what their boundaries were, it was just all so natural. So right, as if they fit together like puzzle pieces.

Lance pressed his cheek into Keith’s hair, eyelids sliding shut as the tension from the incident began to leave his body. Keeping conversation with the duo was easy. Something about them together fed the conversation with just the right amount of nostalgic spark that kept words flowing but refused to alienate Lance for his limited time with them. There was no pressure on appearances between them, no worries about judgements for actions, just two open and inviting friends who liked having people to let their guard down to. 

When he made new connections and friends in the future, he could at least look to them as an example of the type of relationships he wanted to have. And, they were possible. If Keith and James could do it with the size of their respective fan bases, there was nothing stopping him from having that in the far future too.

Though, if he’d been any less attentive, he would’ve missed the split-second look that crossed James’s face as he pressed his face into Keith’s locks again.

* * *

“So, were you ever going to tell me? Or were you waiting until I figured it out?” The words left James’s mouth so easily, not a hint of doubt in his tone. He held the neck of a beer bottle loosley in the ring of his fingers as he rested his other arm on Keith’s shoulder, awaiting his answer.

Keith quirked an eyebrow at him, lowering the suorin drop from his lips. “What are you talking about?”

James leaned back against the wall of the gas station convenience store. The occasional vehicle zooming down the highway seemed to be the only reminder that time was slowly ticking away as they stood in the darkness. “You like him.”

“You’re drunk.” Keith rolled his eyes and went back to his previous action.

“This is beer number one, and you know it.” James pointed out. He sipped the cool liquid from the bottle and continued, “It’s okay to have a crush.”

Keith exhaled, blowing vapor away from James’s direction. “Except I don’t.”

“Look, Keith, I get it. It’s not exactly a comforting thought to be interested in someone when everyone’s always in your business. But, that’s a problem with them, not you.” James’s gaze filled with sympathy as he continued, “I don’t want you to think I’m giving you issues either. I’m only teasing you, because we’re friends, but I’ll stop if you want.”

Keith’s eyes dropped to the concrete ground, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pocket, silent. It wasn’t James’s fault he couldn’t find a way to tread away from platonic territory with Lance. No, if anything James was the only person in his vicinity that could ever understand the complex feelings that came along with a romantic interest in someone while living the types of lives they did.

“I know it’s scary. You have a million eyes watching everything you do, and it feels like there’s no room to mess up, because you think everyone will know. But, you’re allowed to like him. You’re not confined to dating other celebrities.” James took a drink from the bottle. In retrospect, he should’ve covered it in some sort of bag to obstruct the fact he was drinking in public, but years of celebrity status had a way of dulling people to the consequences of such actions.

Pleading purple eyes flicked over towards James’s hand. “Can I have some?”

James handed over his drink. 

Keith raised the glass rim of the bottle to his lips, taking a few sips of the bitter liquid to numb his nerves. Maybe his friends were right, that the psychological need to keep a buzz going to work through increasing stress was an issue, but at the end of the day, his job kept him too busy to consider his other options. After all, it wasn’t as if he had stopped functioning. It was the opposite in fact, with every bottle and can it seemed like his responsibilities were tackled more smoothly, a pleasant warmth in his veins uplifting his mood even when things went wrong. Without it, it felt like the world was crashing down on him, suffocating him with a death grip around his throat, constantly reminding him od the confines his work left him in.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t stop if he tried.

Concern flicked in James’s eyes. “Are you doing okay?”

Keith glanced at the bus, then back down at the bottle. What was he supposed to say? That he spent nights awake and exhausted until he could numb himself enough to slip into unconsciousness? That this whole tour felt like nothing but repeatedly having cameras shoved in his face as he put on a showmanship type persona and longed for the day he could have some sense of privacy? Or that every time he let someone closer to him, he ended up in some situation he felt like he should’ve been able to avoid, and that he felt like he had to keep the resulting misery a secret? What was the right answer? _Was_ there even a right answer?

Though, if he was going to tell anyone any semblance of truth, James might as well be one of the people he chose for it.

“I guess?” Keith’s fingers drummed against the glass bottle. “Maybe a bit wound up.”

James frowned. “Have you taken any time for yourself lately?”

“I’m on tour. What time?”

“Look, I know what it’s like. You’re hopping from plane to plane and bus to bus for millions of shows, because everything sells out. It’s exhausting, but you’re going to burn out if you don’t start taking it easy some days.” James reached his hand out, fingers brushing up and down Keith’s arm comfortingly. “I just think at the very least you should take a break before recording your next album.”

“Easy for you to say,” Keith took a swig from the bottle, “people like you for your personality. They only got interested in anything I was doing, because I made a fool of myself trying to deal with the whole world seeing my dick.”

“They only liked me, because I was marketed to them like a piece of meat. They made everyone believe I was a teenage heartthrob, but now, I’m in my twenties, and I don’t think I’ve had one successful relationship in my life.” James took the bottle from Keith, tipping it back as he began to finish off the last quarter of it. There was something comforting about passing around a half backwash bottle of beer. It was like the small sliver of a normal teenage experience they were allowed to grasp at. They were both robbed of the typical high school years everyone else around them seemed to have gotten. No late nights in someone’s car eating terrible pizza and drinking backwash soda, no breaking curfew because they got caught up sneaking into a second movie at the theaters, no less than pleasant house parties filled with half-assed beer bong and horrid music choices. Their younger years were nothing but being whisked around the world to play venue after venue until the adults around them were satisfied with the cash in their pockets. Maybe it seemed glamorous from afar, but between the two of them, they would always know how priceless those years of goofing around with inexperience were.

After all, at the end of the day, they were the closest either of them would have to an old high school friend, something that seemed so mundane but desirable all in one.

“We’re all tools to them. They’re going to make as much money as they can then toss us aside.” James continued, “They did it to me once, and I know they’ll do it to me again. But, even though everyone sucks, I don’t think your fans are around just to point fingers and laugh.”

“And, what convinced you of that?” Keith scoffed.

“Well, why don’t you ask the fan you have waiting for you on the bus?” James suggested with a bit of cheekiness, “And don’t say it’s because he wants to fuck you, because you’re the one that invited him on your tour.”

Something flicked in Keith’s eyes. Sadness? Hopelessness? His gaze focused on the ground and his next words came out softly, dejectedly, “He… He just wants a performing career…”

“You’re lying to yourself again, Keith. I know you have problems believing there’s anything good in you, but a shitty person doesn’t keep a fanbase like yours. And trust me, no one gets onto a tour bus with someone they don’t like. I love my bandmates, but if I have to hear Nadia drunkenly sing the chorus to Sweet Caroline again, I’m going to propel myself out a window. There’s a reason I’m the vocalist.” James forced a smile to his face with his last addition. 

“Yeah,” Keith attempted to match James’s smile. “I guess spending time with Shiro and Matt during their _Gladiator_ tour wasn’t exactly a highlight of my tour bus experiences.”

“In all seriousness, I think if you really want to know what your fans see in you, you should ask Lance. He seems pretty level headed compared to a lot of the super fans I’ve run into. Both yours and mine.” James finished off the last of the bottle, tossing it into an open recycling bin a few feet away. “Besides, even if it doesn’t help your self esteem at the end, you can figure out how to help his career.”

A silence passed between them and Keith pressed his suorin drop to his lips again. The urge always snuck up on him alongside anxiety, didn’t it?

“James, can I ask you something? And it stays here, at this gas station?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Say, hypothetically, I do have a thing for Lance…” Keith pulled his bottom lip between his bottom teeth, searching for the right way to phrase his concern, “Doesn’t that mean, if I make a move on him, I’m just abusing my position in all of this?”

James furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“The music industry is full of people using their positions to make others do things. What if he feels obligated to date me, because I basically hold the key to his career now? How am I any better than the people who pulled shit like that on me?” He rubbed his thumb over the hem of his sweatshirt. “Do you see how badly fucked up I am now? What does that say about me if I’m willing to put Lance through that too?”

“Listen, one teenage star to another, none of what happened to you is your fault. You didn’t agree to half the shit you were put through, but I know you’d never put someone else through half of it.” James assured, “Don’t compare yourself to someone who tried to control you with drugs and revenge porn.”

“Easier said than done.” 

“Keith, the longer you spend hating yourself, the longer you’re going to be doing things like _excessive drinking_ to cope with your feelings.”

An apologetic look flicked in Keith’s eyes. “Sorry, I know, I’m just, I’m just feeling a bit raw right now.”

“About the other night?”

Keith nodded.

James laid a hand on his back, rubbing comfortingly. “It’s okay.”

“Sorry for dragging you into… into whatever Lance and I are doing.” Keith sighed, taking another inhale from his suorin drop, “It’s not your fault I ended up in this position.”

 “As if I haven’t called you a million times about all my failed dates.” James pulled his phone from his pocket, glancing at the time on the bright screen. “We should get back on the bus before your driver gets antsy though.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Look, Keith, just talk to him. It doesn’t have to be about dating, but I think if you don’t talk, you’ll end up in a bigger mess.”

“Where was my PR coach to teach me how to navigate people like you do?”

James shrugged. “Where was my notice that I was allowed to tell managers and producers no about changing my music?”

Keith matched his shrug. “Guess I figured there wasn’t much left to lose at that point.”

James’s phone echoed throughout their proximity, obnoxious alarm reminding them of their never-ending commitments. The tranquility of a quiet moment under the stars with only a highway to interrupt them never lasted.

Keith followed behind James, the bus doors closing behind him moments after he entered.

Something was telling him he’d need another drink to calm him enough to embrace any hope of sleep tonight.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tabloids had a way of ruining everything in Keith's life, didn't they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is having a good day. Without further ado, here's the next chapter :)

Purple eyes dared to open, facing the sober reality of life that awaited them outside of unconsciousness. An unwelcome light poured through the window he’d forgotten to draw the blinds on in the late hours of the night, and his body created a tug-of-war with his mind. Getting up to shut it would result in a pleasant comfort, though it meant leaving the mess of sheets and limbs he was currently entangled in.

He compromised for shoving his own pillow over his face, willing for his miserable headache to cease its existence. Wasn’t pain tolerance supposed to increase over time? He’d suffered too many hangovers to count, so shouldn’t his body learn to tolerate the pain at some point?

The soft breathing of the men to either side of him reminded him of the reality around him. For every comment James made about Keith’s love of liquor, he really wasn’t of any help when it came to keeping Keith from the stuff. Though, to his credit, last night may have been the first night in a few days he didn’t vomit his guts out before being able to sleep.

Even if the other night was due more to anxiety than alcohol. But, something kept him from attempting to admit that out loud, even if it made it more understandable that he dirtied his sheets over it.

Lance’s arms tightened slightly around Keith’s torso, head resting peacefully on his bare chest. James laid a few inches away, no contact with anyone else on the bed, just his face pressed into the plush pillow beneath him. 

The pounding pain in his head nagged him to move and tend to the root cause of his discomfort. The longer he adjusted to the sunlight, the more intense the urge became, begging him to either become a recluse for the day, hiding away in the darkness of his tour bus bedroom, or find a quick cure for the cruel consequence from last night’s actions.

His phone vibrated against the wood of the small set of drawers next to his bed. Carefully, he maneuvered himself to reach over James’s sleeping form without disturbing Lance’s slumber atop of himself. With the object in his hands, he mentally hissed at the sudden brightness from the device. Flicking his thumb across the screen, he lowered the amount of light emitting from it before checking the string of notifications available to him. Several missed calls from Pidge, a few texts from her, another missed call from his mother. He tapped open the notification thread of missed texts.

_ You’re TRENDING! _

_ What did you do?! _

_ Keith, I’m serious, call me right now! _

He tapped the thread closed. As important as the fact was that tabloids found yet another thing to make into a big deal about him, his brain did not have nearly enough capacity currently to care about others opinions. Though, the call from his mother seemed like enough of a sign that he needed to eventually leave the cozy warmth of other bodies and blankets.

Reluctantly slipping out of the pleasant embrace he’d spent the night in, he placed his exposed feet onto the bus floor. He kicked a few stray beer bottles out of the way and forced his legs to carry him to the lounge. Squinting at the new rays of light from the windows, he drew each blind and miserably worked with the coffeemaker sitting on the counter of the kitchenette. When the dark liquid exited the machine, he rose to the balls of his feet, opened the cabinet, and brought a glass bottle down to rest on the counter. He mixed the two together and let himself enjoy the joint buzz of alcohol and caffeine entering his body.

They could tell him that drinking to cure a hangover was the exact opposite way to handle the misery it brought, but if he managed to stay consistently buzzed, he could numb the pain just enough.

He flopped back onto the couch, sipping his drink as he used his free hand to navigate through his phone. A few minutes later, he tapped his mother’s name in his contacts and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Good morning, Keith.” His mother’s voice came through the receiver. How she was so awake and attentive at this hour of the morning would always puzzle him.

“Hey, mom.” He said groggily, “Why’s everyone freaking out? I have a ton of messages from people.”

“Well, there’s a new rumor going around.”

Keith let out a loud groan, sinking back further into the cushions. Of course there was. “What did they make up this time?”

“For starters, they’re saying you have a new boyfriend. There’s pictures of you and a mystery man in New York City. I figured I’d ask you personally before making any assumptions.”

Keith choked on his coffee mid sip. “I’m sorry there’s  _ what _ ?!” 

“I can send you the links.” She paused for a minute, then continued speaking once Keith felt his phone vibrate against his cheek, “I’m assuming it’s all normal tabloid stories then?”

He switched her to speakerphone and urgently skimmed through all the links. Over the top headlines and a series of repeating photos filled his screen. A rare few were from the day he’d spent with Lance roaming around Manhattan, while the big repeating one was the same blurry photo of him pulling Lance by his hand onto the tour bus from yesterday. He’d seen the paparazzi take innocent photos out of context before, he’d been the victim of it a million times, but this? This was a new reach.

It dawned on him. It wasn’t only him in the photo this time. It wasn’t some outrageous claim he was half alien, or an unflattering photo of himself speeding down  the highway on a motorcycle without a helmet. No, this was a story that involved more than one person. It involved a friend, someone previously untainted by the cruel nature of the paparazzi.

He’d managed to do exactly what he promised himself he wouldn’t. He dragged Lance into his mess of a life and threw him into publicity without a second thought. Yeah, Lance wanted to be a star, but Keith knew it wasn’t in his dreams to be smeared by paparazzos looking for a quick buck, and for dragging him and his name into this, Keith was nothing but selfish. He’d been the one to ask Lance to spend time with him on tour. He knew the risks, but he asked anyway, just like the selfish person he was.

Suddenly, he needed something stronger than what was sitting in his cup.

“Keith?” Krolia asked, “Is everything alright?” 

“I-I’m sorry, mom. I’ve got to go.” He lied, quickly tapping the red circle on his phone’s screen. The sudden silence made way for a new sickening sense of anxiety, as if a pair of hands solidified a grip around his neck, pressing harder with each passing minute. He was trapped, and he trapped Lance with him. He was no better than anyone else he found himself working with in his younger years, years where he was naive and unable to defend himself against others’ interests. At the worst, he was proving himself to be as disgusting as any other person coaxing someone into a relationship with them, and at the best, he was putting Lance through the stress of tabloid rumors for the sake of boosting his own popularity.

Lance deserved so much better than him. 

He chugged the rest of his spiked coffee, zero regard for the bitter taste overwhelming his palette. Padding over to the kitchenette, he pulled out a shot glass and large half-empty bottle of vodka. Some spilled and splashed out the sides as he poured his drink, leaving a mess of the counter as his brain focused on the actions that would see the liquid meeting his mouth the quickest. The bottom of the small glass hit the counter harshly after the drink disappeared past his lips. His mind begged for another, anything to numb the anxiety threatening to bubble past his surface.

The time of the morning didn’t matter. The amount of alcohol in each drink didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that the anxiety disappeared.

His phone vibrated against his thigh. Digging his fingers into his pocket, he uncoordinatedly pulled it into his line of vision. Pidge’s name presented itself on the screen, and he accepted the call. What did it matter if she got mad at him? He’d already fucked up with the tabloid’s again anyway.

“Keith, why wouldn’t you answer earlier? I’ve been trying to call you all morning.” Pidge asked, her tone filled with a large array of emotions Keith couldn’t find the energy to pick apart.

“I was sleeping before.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” He could almost see Pidge as if she was in front of him, frazzled and frantically tapping through her iPad with her apple pencil. “So, you’ve seen the articles, right?”

What was he supposed to say? Yes, he saw the articles. But, if he was being completely honest, there was no part of him that wanted to acknowledge their existence. All they were was a reminder of the terrible thing he did.

He tipped back another shot, grimacing at the taste. He needed a better brand next time. “Yeah.”

“Does Lance know?” She asked.

“No. He’s sleeping.” 

“What do you mean he’s sleeping?”

“I, um,” He tripped over his words, wishing he could blame it on the alcohol that hadn’t hit him yet, “I invited him to spend a few weeks on tour with me.”

“Wait, wait, wait, he’s on the bus with you?”

“Yeah…” Keith bit his bottom lip. “Is… is that a bad thing?”

“You’re supposed to run these things by me  _ before _ you do them.” Pidge took a deep breath, then continued, “Okay, so I’ve been with my family for a few days, what have you done since then?”

“I invited Lance on tour with me, James came to visit, we did a photoshoot, I fired Anthony, I invited Shiro to play in a show—”

“Wait! You fired Anthony?!” She exclaimed, “Keith! You can’t just fire him for no reason!”

“I had a reason!” He snapped back, slamming his palm against the counter. 

“Not liking him isn’t a reason, we’ve gone over this.”

“That’s not why!” Keith’s voice broke. He tentatively pressed a finger to the corner of his eye, feeling a wetness coating the skin before he clenched his fingers back into a fist. 

“Okay, then why did you fire him?”

Keith froze. His jaw refused to move. He hit the end call button.

Collapsing back onto the couch, he swiped the open bottle from the counter. Why couldn’t he tell her? It wasn’t as if she wasn’t aware of the way he’d been treated in the past, and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t known his concerns about Anthony and only argued for his position due to factors out of the control of either of them, but something made it so hard to just open his mouth and say it aloud.

Though, the same could be said for half his negative experiences in the industry. From inappropriate conduct to exploitation, his mouth remained shut, only opening when absolutely necessary. Would it really still be putting his career on the line these days? Yeah, as a teenager his career and wellbeing rested in the hands of a sketchy manager, and the crew he hired, but as a full fledged adult with power over his choices and a new team backing him, he wasn’t nearly as vulnerable as he once was.

Yet, somehow the need to be quiet about it all was still ingrained in him. But, with the limited amount of people who believed him the first time around, he learned maybe that was the best instinct to have.

Keep his mouth shut, deal with whatever was coming his way, and pretend it never happened. His voice, his requests, his health didn’t matter. All that mattered was, at the end of the day, other people were making money. Besides, each and every time he spoke out against the brutal harshness and injustice of the industry, it only got defamatory labels thrown at him. Aggressive, difficult, hard to work with, anything to discredit his concerns and pave a path that left him looking unreasonable and everyone else as victims of it.

Even if he did come forward, what was he supposed to say? That he’d endured years of exploitation and abuse at the hands of higher ups as if no one else had as well? In the end, wasn’t it the fact that he kept this information secret the only reason he had any leverage at all against his former manager? The moment he spoke, there was no longer an invisible barrier that kept them apart, because there was nothing left to lose at that point.

He took a swig from the bottle. 

Besides, he didn’t need to speak about his unpleasant memories. He had music to fall back into. His experiences could be written into ear-pleasing metaphors and chord combinations he was praised for, all wrapped up into a beautiful bow that presented the more grisly implications as nothing more than overanalyzing source material.

A sudden urge crawled through the expanse of his body, under his skin, and to his fingertips. He whipped out his phone and tapped into the notepad, typing away with phrases and lyrics that pushed to the forefront of his mind.

James once told him how much he envied Keith’s singing voice. That Keith had the ability to be vocally angry, to tap into his rage and reflect it into his art, while James’s voice always managed to sound so gentle when paired with proper singing technique. James said he wanted to have the same power in his vocals that Keith did, the ability to sing away frustrations and let people know it without a second thought. 

It was moments like this that Keith knew  _ exactly _ what James meant.

His writing session ended abruptly, with Pidge’s contact photo popping up and her request for FaceTime taking over his thought process. He accepted.

Pidge’s face shoved his own video aside, her messed hair pointed every which way, and the round glasses that her face adorned were strikingly different from her recent new pair. Though, the bedhead look was not as noticeable as the concern present in her amber eyes.

“I’m not here to fight you, okay?” She started gently, “Whatever happened, we can work through it, but we don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to.”

How he ever managed to get upset with Pidge of all people would always puzzle him. And make him feel like an asshole alongside it.

He sighed, attempting to release whatever pent up residual anger was in his body. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I know you’re trying to help.” 

“I just want to know you’re okay.” She said, “I know you’re not going to make a scene for the hell of it.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you doing alright?” 

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, eyes drifting towards the ground.

“Is anyone on the bus with you at least?”

“Yeah. Lance and James are here.” Keith pressed the bottle to his lips, tipping it back and taking a short sip. “They’re sleeping.”

A sadness crossed Pidge’s face. “Okay, I just—Don’t take this the wrong way, Keith—but, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be spending a lot of time alone right now.” She sat up straighter in her bed, and a few muffled voices, of which he could only pick out Matt’s, made their way into the call. “Is James staying for a while?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Pidge. I’m an adult, I can live on my own for a bit.”

“Keith, you know this isn’t about not being able to take care of yourself. It’s about your substance abuse.”

“It’s just a drink.” Keith huffed.

“It’s not just a drink anymore. Not when we said no getting drunk on this tour, and you can’t stick to it. If you can’t stick to a few months without alcohol then you have a problem.” She pushed a few strands of hair out of her face. “You’ve had two overdoses before. I don’t want to see alcohol poisoning on that record too.”

“I can hold my liquor.” 

“I have no doubt you can, but we’re just tiptoeing around the  _ reasons _ you’re drinking this much, which is that you swapped out one addiction for another. You can go down as one of the youngest and most awarded musicians in history, or you can be remembered as another legend who lost to himself. But, the twenty-seven club is very real, and I don’t want you going down that path.”

“But what if I don’t want to be the most decorated musician in history? What if I just want people to leave me alone for five minutes? What if I just don’t want cameras shoved in my face every time I turn a fucking corner?!”

This is not how he wanted the drinks to hit him. He wanted to feel the familiar fuzzy warmth flowing through his veins, not for his emotions to spill out like a waterfall and for his gravity of his life to hit him like a ton of bricks. That was the exact reason why he drank in the first place, to ignore the reality of the cage he signed himself into with endless papers and contracts, not to remember it and realize it vividly.

“I know it’s not easy! I know it’s stressful. I’m not saying you’re wrong for wanting some peace and quiet, okay?” She sighed, closing her eyes for a brief moment and collecting her thoughts. She began again with a softer, more collected tone, “When you finish the tour, I want you to go through a program or two. I’ll take care of all the planning, it’ll be completely private, you can even use your vacation house—”

“No. I can’t.” The words came out pathetically desperate, “I can’t. They’ll figure out somehow, and it’ll be a huge story, and everyone will be looking at me like  _ that _ again, and I can’t do it. I can’t.” A shaky breath escaped him. “They’re monsters, Pidge. They’ll never let it go. They still haven’t let go about the sex tape, and it was years ago! I didn’t even film it, I didn’t even know he had it—”

“Keith—”

“I’ll detox again. I’ll do it. I promise. Just not a program, please. I—”

“Keith, listen!” She put more force into her tone, careful to not escalate into yelling, “I’m not trying to threaten you, okay? I’m just looking out for you. Your friends are too. James wouldn’t be with you right now if he didn’t care about your wellbeing. No one likes being on a tour bus with other people. I just want to see you find a better way of coping with your feelings. You’re overwhelmed right now.” She gave him a moment to speak his piece. When he didn’t, she continued, “I’d never do anything without thinking it through like that.”

Keith nodded. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know it’s rough, and you’re not the first one to think they’re cracking under the pressure. But, I’m a master at this stuff. I’ll have it all worked out for you, don’t worry about a thing. I’m going to work with PR to weasel out of the tabloids again. I’ll call you again when we have a plan. And, if it doesn’t work then just remember all the other rumors they’ve made up that people have forgotten about. You’ll be fine.”

He weakly nodded, eyes wandering away from the screen. “I need to go.”

“Check in with me later, okay?”

“Yeah. See you.” He pressed the end call circle and let his weight carry him all the way down onto the couch with one soft thud. The sudden rush of adrenaline left as quick as it came. All that was left was the unpleasant effects of alcohol that often hit in the alter hours of the night when he found himself alone. No pleasant bubbly addition to his thoughts, no feeling of ease, not even the will to attempt to keep the supposed buzz going. Just nothing but the unsettling numbness alongside bouts of nausea and an unconscious want to bring more of the liquid into his system.

He watched the bottle fall and clang against the floor and seep out. It didn’t matter. He’d clean it later.

Whenever that was.

* * *

Lance pressed the screen of his phone to his cheek. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his knuckles and silently tuned into the voice on the other side of the line. His eyes drifted over towards the other side of the bed, James’s sleeping form evident under the sheets, Keith nowhere to be found.

“Good morning.” Veronica’s voice came through the phone, awake and chipper as if she somehow knew Lance was lying in bed praising whatever governing force decided he wouldn’t be hungover. “How’s life on the road?”

He forced his voice low, just above a whisper, “Fine, fine. But, it’s so early for a call.”

“Or maybe you were just up real late having some good ol’ fashioned fun.” She suggested teasingly.

“Ha, ha.” He said flatly, “You know that’s not what this is.” 

“That’s not what Arus Magazine says.” She hummed.

“Hm?”

“Rachel called me this morning and said >tabloid news< just posted an article on their facebook page that you’re Keith’s new arm candy.” 

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. She hears a rumor and instead of asking  _ me _ she asks you. Please explain that logic. She’s my  _ twin _ , shouldn’t we have some sort of bond that makes her want to ask me first?”

“Yeah, but we have a thing between us called a sisterly bond. Some say it might even be stronger than the twin bond.”

Lance huffed.

“Anyways, is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“You know, you and Keith.”

“Wait—” The sheets shifted in the bed, and Lance’s eyes shot over to James. The other man rolled over and shoved a pillow over his face. Once James ceased to move, Lance continued again, voice softer, “You were serious?”

“Yeah.”

“One second.” He urgently pulled the phone away from his ear, tapping away and pulling up a search bar. Thumbing through the results, he skimmed a few articles. The photos were blurry at best, but Racheal was far from wrong. That was undeniably him getting onto the bus with Keith.

There was no way this was widespread, right? It wasn’t as if him and Keith were actually dating. The photo wasn’t even real evidence either. He wasn’t holding Keith, or kissing him, no, he was just following him into the bus. If they really thought about it, it could’ve been anyone that joined Keith. A new band member, a photographer, a journalist, anyone. It didn’t mean that he was obviously Keith’s boyfriend. Besides, it wasn’t even like any of those articles were able to name him. All he was was a nameless face.

This would blow over. It had to. There was no way people were going to take this seriously, not with a million holes in the story, right?

It would all be fine. In a few days, there would be no rumors, no writers desperately reaching for a story, and no out of context photos. Just a return to the day to day life of a tour that Keith promised to show him.

This would go away.

He rose the phone back to his ear. “No, no, look, I’m a real catch, but we’re not together.”

“Aw, what a shame.” Veronica said, “How cool would it of been to tell mami you’re a celebrity boyfriend now?”

“Yeah, but then she’d want me to bring him home for dinner, and I don’t think Racheal could handle actually meeting a famous person. She’d combust.”

Veronica let out a laugh. “If you were actually dating Keith I think she’d be jealous for the rest of her life. Though, dating Keith would really stick it to Jenny.”

“Sometimes, I think you’re more mad at her than I am.” 

“No one treats my baby brother like she did and doesn’t get the cold shoulder from the whole Serrano family.”

“Well, at least one of my sisters is on my side.”

“You can always count on me.” She assured, then added a cheeky, “Even about your love life.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll tell you about my nonexistent dates the moment they happen.”

“Good.” She said, “Anyway, I’m getting on the subway now, so I’ll talk to you later.”

“See ya, V.” He waited for the line to drop before lowering the phone to his chest, lacing his fingers together and letting his gaze travel up to the ceiling. The standstill of the bus only added to the weight of his thoughts.

This had to blow over. Something else more interesting would come along and make this seem like nothing. Besides, it’s not like Keith ever saw him as real boyfriend material anyway. In a few months, they’d laugh about this, just like how Keith and James do, right? 

But, what about now? Keith already seemed tired of the paparazzi on his tour as it was. All his presence did was increase the traffic to his pages and the amount of cameras that would be in his face. If he had to be honest with himself, his very presence on this tour was an inconvenience before they’d even left New York City.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, then exhaled, closing his eyes. It was going to be okay. Part of being in the industry was being able to deal with these things. People were going to make rumors, people were going to shove cameras in his face about them, he just needed to make sure he was calm and collected. As long as he stayed level-headed about all of it, he would be fine. That’s all he needed to do, just think of it as practice.

And maybe somehow making it all up to Keith.

* * *

A rhythmic clicking filled the hallway, the wheels of Lance’s rolling duffle bag meeting the indents between each tile. The hotels Keith booked were always so grandiose, luxuries every which way, and even the common areas radiated with a certain sense of monetary exclusivity. Though, to be fair, Keith did spend the majority of his time in a small bedroom on a bus. If he was in Keith’s shoes, he’d also be splurging on his hotel rooms. 

Keith pressed the keycard to the sensor on the door and pulled the handle to the room. He pushed it open and watched as Kosmo eagerly trotted inside, leaving the duo in his tracks. 

“Do you have the bag with dog food?” Keith asked, shifting his personal bag further up onto his shoulder and readjusting the guitar sitting on his back.

“Yeah, it’s in this one.” Lance shook his arm to show off the reusable plastic bag as he spoke.

“Thanks.” Keith gave him a thankful smile before widening the opening with his foot. Once Lance entered the room, he followed close behind, assuring that every lock on the door was in use before dumping his belongings on one of the beds.

Lance hummed quietly to himself as he unloaded his clothes into the dresser. “Hey, so why do you always get hotel rooms with two beds? I mean, it’s not like you’re a group performance or anything.”

“Oh, Pidge likes to join me on my tours if she can. Something about keeping me away from destructive behavior.” Keith took his guitar out of the hard case, plucking a few strings before leaning it against a wall. “I’d argue with her, but she’s really stubborn.”

“So, you don’t like her coming with you then?”

“No, no not that I don’t like her coming with me. We’re close. She just has this whole thing about ‘keeping me out of trouble’ that I think is overkill.”

“Oh, so um,” Lance pushed the dresser drawers closed, “If she’s always sharing a room with you, how do you… ya know?”

Keith blinked a few times.

“You know…” Lance waved his hand circularly towards himself, encouraging the rest of the thought.

“I’m…” Keith quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not following.”

Lance said bluntly, “Sex.” 

“Oh…” Keith said the first word softly, then it hit him. His eyes widened, and his voice rose, “Oh! I, I don’t really, I mean, I  _ do _ but not as much as you think.”

Lance crossed his arms over his chest skeptically. “You have millions of fans, and you’re telling me you can’t get laid? Aren’t groupies a thing?”

“I have a rule about sex with fans.”

“You seemed pretty eager to get close with me when we met.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t  _ know _ you were a fan.” Keith moved his hands as he spoke, exposing his palms. “You weren’t lining up to try and sneak backstage or something.”

“I’m messing with you.” Lance let out a small, playful laugh. “I’m not trying to ‘find you out’ or something.” 

“I know, I know,” Keith deflated slightly. “I’m sorry.”

Lance frowned. He padded over towards Keith, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist from behind. Pressing close to him, he rested his chin on Keith’s shoulder and attempted to soothe the nerves radiating from him, “You know I’m on your side. Always, okay?”

Keith let out a sigh, one hand rising up slightly to rest on Lance’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Lance rubbed his hand comfortingly over Keith’s torso. “If, um, if you wanna talk about it we can.”

“I’m… I’m just stressed. But, thanks.” 

“We can just rest for a bit?” Lance suggested, leaning back until his backside hit the bed and bringing Keith with him.

“Mmm, maybe.”

Kosmo rose from his spot in the corner, stepping over towards the bed and jumping onto it.

“Look, even Kosmo wants you to take a break.” Lance pressed his face into Keith’s neck.

“Okay, fine.” Keith leaned into Lance’s chest. “But only until Shiro gets here. I still have work to do.”

“Boo. You’re no fun.” Lance leaned all the way back onto the mattress, never letting Keith leave his arms. He wormed their way up until there was a pillow under his head.

Keith shifted, making a home for himself within Lance’s embrace and chest. He rested his head on Lance’s shoulder and tilted his chin to look at him. “You know, if you want to be a musician, you’re going to have to do a lot of work too.”

“Yeah, but you need to unwind too. You’re not gonna tell me all those drug, party, and sex references in your songs are bull.”

“No, they’re not. But I have to be good on tour. Too many different reporters and paparazzos to risk it.”

Lance ran his fingers through Keith’s hair, messing it as he took in the intimacy of the moment. His brain urged him to continue it, to run his thumb over Keith’s cheek and press a kiss to his forehead. But, Keith wasn’t that close to him, no matter how much he wished it so. To be fair, at the end of the day he was just lucky to be here. He had no right to opinions on Keith’s life or relationships.

A knock sounded at the door to the room, and Kosmo’s head rose with it. One of Keith’s eyes opened, eyeing the door suspiciously as the jingle of Kosmo’s collar echoed across their space.

Lance propped himself up onto his elbows, head whipping in the other direction to look at the doorway. “I’ll go check, you can stay here.” He waited a few moments for Keith’s nod of approval before lifting himself off the bed and stalking over towards the door. Cupping his hands around the peephole, he stuck one eye into makeshift tunnel and took in the sight beyond the door. 

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood on the other side. His short white hair fell in front of his forehead in a tuft and a long scar decorated his face across the bridge of his nose. 

Lance took a second glance, and it dawned on him.

Takashi Shirogane was standing at the door.

Okay, okay, it made sense he would be. Keith did invite him after all. But, it didn’t take away the awe of having a member of the award winning duo The Kerberos Mission on the other side of the door.

The door—he had to open the door.

He moved the handle and swung the hunk of wood towards himself, shuffling out of the way as it came closer.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I have the wrong room.”

“No!” Lance threw his hands up. “No! This is the room! Keith’s here. He’s on the bed.” Wait, that sounded bad. Really bad. “Not like that! I promise.”

A friendly smile spread across Shiro’s face, and he let out a laugh. “You must be Lance.”

“I, uh, yeah, that’s me.” Lance stuck his hand out in front of him, a small nervous tremor infiltrating the movement.

Shiro met Lance’s hand with his own, giving it a firm shake and never dropping the friendly smile from his face. 

Okay, he was starting to think that he was right when he thought maybe all of Keith’s friends were like this. Each one so far seemed flawlessly put together. First James, with his seemingly bulletproof confidence, and now with Shiro’s unwavering friendly aura, there was definitely some sort of key that unlocked the door to having such a perfect exterior.

Keith slid off the bed and padded over to Shiro, Kosmo following close behind. Once he was in front of Shiro, he extended his arms and let himself be pulled in close in return.

“How are you doing?” 

“I’m… okay?” Keith shrugged as he left Shiro’s embrace. “Stressed.”

Shiro gently closed the door behind himself. “Want to talk about it?”

“It’s just…” Keith sighed before continuing, “Everything with Anthony on this tour and now the tabloids.”

“What did they say about you this time?” Shiro took a seat at the small, round table in the corner of the room. He pulled out a drum pad and several scribbled on sheets of music, dumping them on the glass that covered the polished wood. Once Keith took the seat next to Shiro, he waved Lance over to join them with a smile.

Screw what everyone else had to say about the current wave of celebrities. As far as Lance could tell, every one of Keith’s friends so far seemed to carry a perfect grandeur with them, but it had no effect on the type of person they actually were. While, yes, James was a tad too stiff and professional for Lance’s personal tastes at the beginning, after a few hours and drinks, he sufficiently showed himself to be a kind-hearted dork. The selfie that he agreed to take with Lance to show off to Veronica as well as the promise to mail her a signed copy of the band’s next album was proof of it. 

Of course, seeing James nursing a hangover as they dropped him off at the airport earlier definitely added to his humanity too.

And Shiro was no different. Lance had only knew him personally for a few minutes, but his willingness to include him without a second thought, as well as Keith’s well-being being the forefront of his concerns showed where his heart lied, and it was in a genuine place.

Lance took his seat next to Keith, scooting his chair closer to the man in question as Keith answered Shiro’s question.

“Oh yeah, you refuse to read tabloids.” Keith took a few of the papers Shiro brought and shuffled through them. “They decided their newest rumor is about my love life again.”

Shiro let out a sigh and rested a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Keith. If you want, Matt and I can dispel the rumors on social media.”

“No point.” Keith crossed his arms and slumped into the table. “They’re just going to start a new rumor in a few months anyway.” 

Shiro frowned, rubbing Keith’s back as he consoled him, “It’ll pass soon. But, if you need to talk, you can always come to me, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Keith lifted himself off the table. “Anyway, the sooner we go over the drum parts, the sooner we can relax.”

Shiro gave Keith a reassuring smile and gently took the papers back from him. He spread them across the table and fit a drumstick into his prosthetic fingers. “Grab your guitar and show me where you need me to start.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between the moments of hiding behind guarded emotional walls and the occasional genuine smiles that escaped Keith when crowds weren't looking, it was beginning to become hard to tell what was the effect of a rigid tour schedule and what was the effect of countless tabloids. Though, Keith hadn't crashed and burned yet, so the answer couldn't be too horrible, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad to be back with a whole new chapter for everyone to enjoy. The amount of new readers I've gotten since the last few chapters absolutely amazes me and I'm grateful for each and every one of you.

Lance rolled his body over to another part of the large bed, blindly grasping at the stiff comforter that was tucked so expertly into the bed. How did Keith and Shiro both manage to sleep in new beds night after night and actually succeed in getting a healthy amount of shut eye during a tour? Honestly, the whole task seemed impossible. 

The other half of the bed was cold, lacking the warmth of another body. He sat up, examining his surroundings. Shiro lay peacefully under the covers of the second bed in the room, chest rising and falling with each breath. Lance watched him take an array of medication before he crawled onto the mattress earlier in the night, one of which he assumed was some sort of sleeping medication based on how quickly Shiro knocked out afterwards. So, it wasn’t exactly unexpected Shiro was out like a light.

Keith though? Keith was gone.

The other side of the bed adorned messed covers, and the nightstand was missing Keith’s suorin drop. The pillows were tossed about by the headboard, and the small bag Keith brought with him off the tour bus and into the room was unzipped and opened wide with pieces of clothing scattered every which way.

At least Lance could reassure himself that the missing articles indicated Keith left on his own.

He slid out of bed, shrugging on his jacket that he left hanging off the dresser and tugging on a pair of sweatpants. Slipping on a pair of socks, he ambled over towards the balcony doors, quietly opening them and taking special caution to assure Shiro’s sleep remained undisturbed.

Keith sat on the small balcony, Kosmo curled up at his feet and something that Lance assumed was another device for vaping in his fingers. His free hand ran through Kosmo’s fur as his took a drag from it, eyes red and puffy. If it weren’t for the small light shining down on them from above, the wet streaks that were coupled with the sight would’ve been unnoticeable.

Lance lowered himself to the ground, taking a seat next to Keith and behind Kosmo. He ran his hands over Kosmo’s fur as he let the silence take over the moment. Keith could speak to Lance when he wanted to.

“You should be asleep.” Keith finally said after several minutes. His voice was slightly hoarse, though if Lance hadn’t just spent days on end with him recently, he couldn’t guarantee that he would’ve noticed.

“You’re the one who has a show tomorrow.” Lance reminded gently, “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I can’t sleep.” Keith answered, an obvious omission of some truth. His eyes flicked down towards Kosmo, fingers settling by the dog’s ear.

“Can I help?”

“I’ll be okay.” Keith pressed the object from earlier to his lips, breathing in. It was thin and long, unlike the other device he often used.

“Is there any reason you have two?” He mentally slapped himself to opening his mouth with those words. That was probably something that was Keith’s business, not his. He shouldn’t intrude on Keith’s personal choices when it came to vape, or nicotine, or whatever Keith was doing with attempt to get healthier as he claimed.

“It’s CBD oil.” Keith answered openly. 

“CBD oil?”

“Have you ever smoked weed?” Keith asked bluntly as he lifted the pen to his lips again. When Lance shook his head, Keith continued, “So, with weed, there’s the part that makes you high and the part that calms you down. CBD oil is kind of just the part that calms you down, so it’s like smoking weed without the high.”

Lance lifted his head from his gaze at Kosmo. “So, it just calms you down?”

Keith nodded. “Usually if I’m stressed like this, I just have a few drinks to wind down, but Shiro hates my drinking.”

There was definitely more than a few drinks making their way into Keith’s system every night, but Lance was going to keep his mouth shut with that observation.

Keith leaned down and pressed the side of his face next to Kosmo’s muzzle. “I was going to just smoke a joint, but it’s a no smoking room. So, I thought that was rude. I didn’t want Kosmo around that either.”

Lance’s eyes softened. He had friends in high school who were attached to their pets, but none of them seemed to of had a bond anywhere close to what Kosmo and Keith had. “You really love him, huh?”

Keith nodded. “He’s one of the reasons I decided to clean up my act.”

“What do you mean?”

Keith stayed silent for a moment, as if he was contemplating his words. After a minute he spoke again, “When I was a little younger, I was dealing with a lot, and I was getting into a lot of stuff I shouldn’t have. I didn’t really see a point in fixing any of it until I found Kosmo abandoned at a gas station. I guess I figured it was kind of how Shiro and Matt saw me? A kid who was pretty much abandoned by everyone and just trying to survive in that world. I wanted to take care of Kosmo, and I realized Shiro and Matt genuinely cared about me, because I genuinely cared about a dog I just found on the side of the road.” After a few seconds of silence, he added, “Sorry, this sounds really stupid once I say it out loud.”

“No, no it’s not.” Lance frantically assured, waving his hands for emphasis, “Whatever it takes to help you realize people are there for you, right?”

A tension released from Keith’s body. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So, does Shiro not like to drink?” Lance asked. Hopefully changing the conversation to focus on another person would ease the stress radiating from Keith.

“No, he’s fine with drinking, getting high on occasion too, though usually he sticks to weed for that one. He just worries about me.” Keith pressed the oil pen to his lips again. He exhaled before continuing, “He thinks I drink a little too much. I’ve had alcohol poisoning before.” 

“I mean, we’ve all made dumb choices.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t want to disappoint him.” Keith admitted, “He’s done a lot for me.”

“You look up to him.”

Keith nodded, confirming Lance’s statement. “Alcohol makes it easier to sleep on tour, but I don’t want to see him disappointed in me. I told him I wouldn’t drink on tour this time, and I cracked two weeks in.”

“Hey,” Lance placed a gentle hand on Keith’s arm, “that doesn’t mean you’re disappointing anyone. Sometimes, it just takes some time to work up to things.”

“Do you think I like drinking this much?” Keith asked bluntly and almost out of the blue.

“I don’t know. We never really talked about it.”

“Sorry.” Keith shook his head, as if he was pushing the conversation away from them both. “I shouldn’t of gotten you involved in that one. I already dragged you into tabloid bullshit.”

“Stop it.” Lance made sure he was keeping solid eye contact with Keith as he responded, “That’s not your fault. I knew there were paparazzi everywhere when I agreed to come on tour with you. I made this choice. You didn’t force me into anything.”

“I should’ve at least thought about you more.” Keith’s eyes darted away. “I was selfish.”

“No, you’re not.” Lance reminded, “You’re helping me out. Never in my life did I ever think you were going to be the one to swoop me off my feet and take me as a guest on your tour because you wanted to be kind. So, stop thinking you’re this bad person. You’re not.”

“Okay…” Keith replied, his purple eyes still missing the spark of life Lance was hoping to see. Though, in retrospect, he couldn’t be sure he’d seen it much in the first place. Keith often looked exhausted, bags under his eyes and his hair reflecting the same energy unless he was going to be in the public eye. James was almost similar, keeping Lance at an arm's length as he navigated his public identity. Lance could only assume Shiro was somewhat the same as well, and that Keith was just in such close quarters with Lance that the face he showed to the world was slipping off in the more private moments.

“Is there anything I can do to help you fall back asleep?”

Keith shook his head. “I’m just going to stay here for a bit and wait until the CBD kicks in a little more.”

“Can I stay until then?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

He couldn’t say he’d been in Connecticut that many times, especially when his idea of visiting the state was actually seeing the sights and visiting tourist destinations, not getting a good look at the venue Keith was playing then finding their way back to the hotel room or bus and riding off to another venue. For all the times everyone acted as celebrities and musicians got to see the world through their travels, it was starting to be more apparent that the claim was bull. Though, it wasn’t as if the realization didn’t make sense. Tour schedules always looked tight from the outside, especially for someone as famous as Keith. It checked out that Keith was spending most of his time hopping from venue to venue and never having time to actually see the place where he was.

But, at least the last few shows seemed to have a bit more of a spark to them. Shiro’s presence in the recent ones only lifted Keith’s spirit and performance quality, especially with the audience going wild at not only seeing Keith on stage, but that one half of The Kerberos Mission was joining him. Plus, the occasional joke between the duo on stage only added to the recent change in the vibe. 

It was pleasant. Tiring, yes, but pleasant.

Keith hummed a tune as he scribbled out something into a notebook. Instead of normal lines like one designed for school, it was was filled with musical staffs and a small space above each section where his messy handwriting resided. He turned the notebook around, facing it towards Shiro. “What do you think?”

Shiro lifted the notebook closer to his face. After a careful inspection and readthrough, he asked, “Which instrument are the chords for?”

“Guitar.” Keith answered, “I got a little angry writing the lyrics and thought it would fit better than the piano part I was working on before.”

“Can you play it for me?”

“Mhm.” Keith nodded and picked up his electric guitar from where it leaned on the wall next to him. The instrument was black and white with a long series of scratches and scuffs all over the surface coupled with a few stickers that were slapped on near the bridge. He patted around the surface of the table blindly as he searched for his pick and adjusted the capo that was clasped around the neck before putting his expert fingers to work. 

“I like it. I would change the chord progression around the tenth measure though if you want the anger to come through.”

“I’ll play with it.” Keith replied with an involved nod and small smile tugging at his lips. He jotted something down onto the paper in front of him before going back to running through a similar progression of chords, the sound changing slightly each time around. 

Yeah, Lance could play guitar, if memorizing patterns of chords counted. But, it never something he would consider himself an expert at. Especially not when his eyes were following the beautiful grace and confidence of Keith’s movements, and his ears were tuning into the perfect combination of Keith’s skilled guitar playing and quiet humming. There was just something about Keith and his music that always managed to leave Lance with a feeling of awe when witnessing the process in person.

He leaned his head over Keith’s shoulder, peering closer at the chords and notes scribbled onto the papers in front of him. Maybe it was just how Keith’s brain worked, musically inclined and focused on a passion, or maybe it was some sort of training that Lance never received that enabled Keith to incorporate so much passion and life into his songs. In fact, Lance had to admit that those elements in Keith’s songs most definitely had an effect on the popularity of the man’s music.

“I could teach you how to play.”

Lance glanced up, meeting the purple pair of eyes looking earnestly at him. “A-Are you sure? I mean, you’re busy, and I do kinda know how to play already and—”

Keith’s teeth flashed through his lips for a moment in a friendly smile. “Yeah, I’m sure. You have a good grasp for someone starting out, but I can help you change chords more smoothly and show you some basics about what makes a hit song.”

“I’d take the offer.” Shiro advised, “Keith has a grasp on musical composition and playing skills a lot of us would kill to have.”

“You and Matt come out with amazing stuff too though.” Lance protested, “Your  _ Rebellion _ album topped the charts for a reason, you know. You and Keith both shape the music industry with new topics for your music.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be on this tour right now if it wasn’t for Shiro.” Keith replied, “So it only makes sense I’m doing this well.”

“Give yourself credit, Keith.” Shiro said, “I just led a horse to water.”

“Yeah, and that horse didn’t want to drink, if you’ve forgotten.”

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t work hard yourself.”

Keith’s gaze softened, a smile falling onto his lips again. “Well, I think the world just needs to know I have an amazing best friend.”

“So, um, everyone knows you guys are close, but how’d you guys become friends?” Lance butted in. The other two men may of been having a moment, but his bubbling curiosity spoke before his brain sealed his lips.

“Oh,” Shiro turned his gaze towards Lance, “We knew each other for a while, but we ended up getting getting close a few years ago.”

“Shiro helped me separate from my first manager and gave me a place to go when my money was being stolen. I was struggling with a lot, and he showed me how to cope a little better. You could say he kinda saved me.” Keith added a smile and a shrug to the last sentence.

“I can’t say those years were my best either, and having someone to help through stuff really helped with having a feeling of purpose. So, I guess you could also say we saved each other in that sense.” Shiro added.

Keith’s eyes widened slightly, as if an idea had just come over him. He whipped his gaze over to Lance, body facing him as well. “You should play for Shiro.”

“Wait, right now?” Lance jumped in his seat at the sudden request.

“Yeah. He’s closer with Allura than I am. But, I’m sure he could tell you if you have the type of sound she’d like to work with.” Keith handed his guitar over to Lance. “I know Shiro would love the one that had the line about moving on.”

“Wait—Allura, as in Allura Altea?” Lance waved his hands in front of himself. “The actress? The one who was on  _ The Kral Zera  _ for season three? She played the princess that Lotor Sincline’s character had an affair with. Is that the Allura we’re talking about?”

“Yeah. She’s been phasing out of acting to work in her father’s record label.” Keith informed, “She said she preferred working in music anyway.”

“You know, if Allura likes him, I bet Hunk would be a great first manager for Lance.” Shiro added.

“Oh, yeah, Pidge is friends with him, and he’s been working with The Frozen Depths lately. But, I heard Plaxum, Blumfump, and Swirn are a nice group.” Keith turned back to Lance, touching his fingers to the back of his neck. “You don’t have to play if you don’t want to. Sorry, I kind of put you on the spot. I, um, I just got a bit excited about the idea of getting you in a recording studio.”

A small heat crept over Lance’s cheeks as he settled one hand around the neck of the guitar and the other over the strings by the bridge. Somehow, the thought of playing became much more terrifying with two award winning and world famous musicians sitting in front of him. It was easy when he was playing in front of a crowd of people he knew he was better than. At least if he wasn’t perfect in that scenario, no one was able to make a comment without remembering that Lance was the one on the stage, not them. Now, with the two seasoned musicians sharing the space with him, one mess up made him feel utterly incompetent.

Shiro smiled warmly at him. “There’s no judgement here. Besides, it’s not like Keith and I never ask for help with our music either. You just saw Keith ask for an opinion. We all have producers too. Don’t worry about a thing, I’d just love to hear your style.”

Lance took a deep, calming breath. He could do this. Even if Shiro didn’t like his music, it wasn’t as if he had any power to bar him from the industry, not when Keith seemed to have his heart this set on watching Lance flourish.

Now that Lance thought about it, that part was extremely flattering. To have Keith, a world famous and award winning musician, fawning over his voice and songs was something that was almost out of a dream. Now, he just had to hope that, if it was, he never woke up.

Lance began to strum the guitar and move his fingers into the different chords he had memorized. Not long after, his voice followed.

It was easy once he got going, letting his soul pour out through his lyrics and chord pairings. Was this how Shiro and Keith both did it? Did they block out everything while they played? Did they feed off the energy of the crowd? Or were they just more accustomed to the lifestyle of putting themselves on a stage for everyone to see? 

In the end, it didn’t really matter, did it? He’d be handling the life of performance in his own way. Even if Keith vomited from anxiety and Shiro did whatever it was he did to prep for the stress of a large audience, Lance would eventually have his own strategy to deal with it all. And according to both Keith and Shiro now, the musician life was not as easy as the media made it out to seem.

“Keith has good taste.” Shiro said as the last chord rang out and Lance’s fingers relaxed. “No wonder he’s been so excited about you.”

“I-I’m really not  _ that _ amazing.” Lance waved his hand as he spoke.

“Keith’s nice, but he’s also not exactly a people person. If he’s telling you these things, he’s telling you the truth. Trust me.” Shiro assured, “And besides, I agree with him.”

“I’m not as good as you guys though.”

“No, but that’s what practice is for. I’m better at drums and songwriting now than I was during my first album, and it’ll be the same for you. Keith and I both have had years of professional resources to sound this good, be easy on yourself.”

“I can work with you too.” Keith offered. The edge of his lips pulled into a small smile as a faint layer of pink dusted his cheeks. “Writing a song together might be fun.”

Lance gripped the back of his neck, returning the smile as his gaze turned away and a similar heat rose to his face. “Yeah. It might.”

Keith’s phone vibrated, buzzing against the glass surface and adding an odd sound to the room. He flipped it over and brought it closer to his face. “I have to make a call, I’ll be right back.” Pushing himself away from the table, he rose and exited the room in favor of the balcony. 

“So, you’re a fan of Keith’s I’m assuming?” Shiro said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.” Lance nodded. “Yours too. I’ve been going to your concerts for years.”

“I’ll have to make sure to return the favor then.” Shiro smiled, then let a more serious expression cross his face, “I did want to say thank you for being there for Keith, though. He’s been through a lot, and I was afraid Anthony’s actions might open some old wounds. So, again, thank you for being as great as you’ve been to him. He needs to meet more fans like you.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Lance said softly, “I wasn’t doing it for anything in return. He just needed someone.”

“I know. And that’s why I trust you.”

“Oh, wow,” Lance pressed his palm to his forehead and brushed his bangs above his hairline. “Takashi Shirogane trusts me.”

“Yeah. You’re a good guy.”

“No, no. You don’t get it. You’ve been one of my heroes for years, and you’re—sorry, I think I’m having a fanboy moment.”

Shiro let out a laugh. “I’ll sign something for you if it’ll mean that much to you.”

“You don’t have to!” Lance waved his hands in front of him. “I don’t want you to think I’m just in this for the perks or anything.”

Shiro rested a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “I know you’re not. Just promise me you’ll keep showing Keith there are still good people out there.”

“I promise.”

* * *

The invisible barrier between the crowd and backstage always had a way of straddling the feelings of safety and longing, the loud cheers of the audience calling Lance closer while the threat of failure restrained him from attempting to take any of it for himself. Besides, it was Keith’s crowd anyway. Seeing some rando jumping on stage wasn’t what his fans signed up for, even if Lance did muster up the courage.

It was interesting though, having the chance to see the same performance over and over, to see which songs brought a smile that reached Keith’s eyes and which ones killed his vibe. Seeing the concert once was an experience filled with awe and wonder, the music and performance blowing away every member of the sea of people, but with each and every subsequent show the little giveaways in Keith’s expression and movement painted a clearer picture of his true feelings towards his art.

Keith wasn’t lying when he said he had negative feelings towards his earlier music. But, with Shiro beating away at his drums and Keith’s fingers creating complimentary chords on his guitar as their voices came together in a beautiful duet, a new, genuine smile managed to settle on Keith’s face, despite his wavering enthusiasm towards his work. And, that at least gave a plus to the less than standard arrangements that found their way into the tour.

At the very least, it showed just how much Shiro meant to Keith, how one person was able to turn his mood around and bring out the best in him on stage. At the most, it showed a beautiful bond tied together with history and an unending passion for music that prevailed over the weight of the numerous struggles thrust upon them. It was a bond made out of unfortunate circumstance, as far as Lance could understand, but one that seemed completely unshakable, no matter how much Keith worried about one day losing Shiro's approval. Keith could say Shiro would be upset with him for his poor choices, though with the way Shiro spoke to Keith, and the fact that he flew all the way to the east coast to do Keith such a huge favor showed a different story, one where Keith misinterpreted his worth and Shiro saw amazing things in him.

Would Lance ever have a bond like that in the music industry? Keith was friendly enough, despite Shiro’s claims that Keith wasn’t a people person, and so were his friends, but each of those relationships seemed to have years of persisting through various struggles together that made them as strong as they were. There was no one Lance had spent extensive time with besides Keith when it came to the music industry. There were no moments that truly bonded him to anyone else. He was alone in that aspect, though he could make friends when he finally got his foot in the door. Right? Everyone in the entertainment industry had their crew. Keith with James, Shiro, and Matt, Lotor with Acxa, Zethrid, Ezor, and Narti, they all seemed to have their go-to people. So, it wasn’t hard to believe he’d form his own little celebrity friend group that Hollywood would follow with cameras one day, it was just natural.

Though, something about the idea of eventually drifting away from Keith stung, as if someone had twisted the contents in his chest each time the thought came around. Despite it silently being part of their arrangement, that Lance would break off from riding Keith’s coattails and make his own name for himself, there was something about that inevitability that was just plain unpleasant in the end. Yeah, Lance would still be in contact with Keith, hopefully, but he would never have this back. He wouldn’t spend nights with Keith in his arms, or with Keith showing him new ideas for songs with a genuine smile on his face, or with Keith informing him on which people select songs were about when they listened to the radio. No, he wouldn’t have the luxury of those moments with Keith again, just fleeting phone calls and maybe a wave at an awards show. Keith was on the top of the world, hopping from continent to continent, and so were his friends, Lance just didn’t fit in there. Not now.

Maybe in another life.

Or maybe at the least he could manage to get Keith to collaborate on a song with him in the future.

Lance shook the thought away. He couldn’t get his hopes up that high. He was still on the east coast, far from the supposed recording studios he kept hearing about from Keith and his friends. It wasn’t as if he didn’t believe Keith and company when they said they were going to boost him in the industry. Even if there was a flare of impatience, it was strictly due to flaws in his own personality and nothing that was something directly caused by Keith. Besides, Keith made it perfectly clear from the beginning that he wouldn’t be doing anything for Lance’s career until he finished his tour, and based off the amount of exhaustion each time Keith stepped off a stage it wasn’t something Lance could ever blame him for either. Though, even with that fact aside, he couldn’t assume he’d even be the type Keith’s record label would like. Or Shiro’s. Or James’s. Were the last two even on different labels? He needed to brush up on his trivia before walking into Hollywood if he ever wanted a shot, especially if he couldn’t prove his potential right away. Keith had his own aesthetic, his own brand in every song, an element so uniquely him to everything he created, and Lance was more than aware of the fact he was nowhere near the type of person Keith was. Who was to say Keith’s label wouldn’t be turning him down the moment they found out he was more of a pop star at heart than the rebellious rocker Keith always carried the aura of being? There was nothing saying he was going to make it as big as Keith, and he couldn’t convince himself he would either.

The instrumentals faded, and Keith’s voice came through the speakers, indulging his fans in a small story about him and Shiro and the strength behind their bond while assuring that he got the audience cheering in a thanks for having Shiro there in the first place. Would there ever be a chance Lance could make it up there one day? Standing beside Keith on a stage that large with an endlessly extending crowd watching them was something out of a dream. Even to possibly perform a duet together for an awards show like Keith did with James a few years ago was more than he could ever ask for. Did Keith’s friends even understand how lucky they were?

Or maybe Keith thought he was the lucky one? Knowing him it as more than possible that he did. He was oddly humble for someone of his standing in society. Would Keith ever feel lucky to be able to be on a stage with Lance?

Lance set his thoughts back on track. There was no way they’d perform together in the near future, nor would Keith ever see him as someone he was lucky to have with him. Not only did Keith work extremely hard for the amount of popularity he had, but he also discovered Lance, not the other way around, and it was something Lance needed to remember while he accompanied Keith on the tour.

Though, the thought was extremely easy to forget when Keith flashed that real, genuine smile as he sang his heart out into the microphone, and the view was only more magical up close.

Even if their time together was done in a few weeks, Lance could learn to work with what they had.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance had read biographies about Keith in his teenage years, how the man never knew when to quit or take a break. But, the tales always seemed too out there to be true. Apparently he just underestimated the dedication Keith had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, life got a bit hectic.

Constantly traveling was exhausting. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t as bad if the traveling was for leisure, leaving time in between each stop to visit the area and learn the ins and outs of each town, but with Keith’s tight tour schedule, it was just stop after stop after stop with no time in between to recuperate. And if the experience was exhausting for him, Lance could barely even begin to think of the taxing nature it carried for Keith with the added weight of performing each and every venue on top of it. There was a part of this lifestyle that definitely required tips and tricks to manage and cope with, but if the alcohol often in Keith’s hand, bags under his eyes, and small scattered scars across the underside of his arms were any indicator of what those coping mechanisms were, Lance wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what they were.

As glamorous as it is having everyone not just aware of who you are but also wildly excited for your appearance, the downsides were definitely beginning to show. The perk of fame seemed to be something that no longer phased Keith, with the stress of tour weighing more heavily on him than the sensation of fame could simultaneously lift him. But, Lance couldn’t blame him either. Being famous since fourteen must of had a way of making the feeling much less special. Though, if Keith wasn’t constantly topping charts and writing hit singles all the time, would his tour life still be this stressful? There was no way all these people were dealing with this type of stress constantly just for the opportunity for others to hear their music, right? Everyone spoke as if fame was something to strive for, not something to loathe. Therefore, there had to be more perks than drags of this lifestyle, and Keith just had too much of a good thing, right?

Lance took a seat next to Keith, leaving ample room for him to move his arm as he strummed through the new set of chords he just created. Everyday without a show began with Keith pouring himself his usual concoction of coffee and alcohol and getting to work either practicing or composing. The close quarters of the bus made the noise impossible to miss, though Lance had to admit, getting a sneak peak into Keith’s creative process was more than a treat. And, with all the music flowing freely through the vehicle despite the work being done on tour, Lance was convinced the line in Keith’s biography about playing his guitar until his fingers bled when he was younger was no exaggeration.

Keith let out a harsh cough, reaching for a tissue to let any possible fluids exit into a barrier between him and the rest of the world. The movement was a tad slow, fatigue creeping its way in and clinging to Keith with its nasty claws as he dropped his custom designed guitar pick and slumped back into the couch cushions. A miserable groan escaped him as he wiped at the underside of his nose with the clean side of the tissue and let his eyes slip closed.

“Maybe you should take a break. Some rest might help you feel better.” He rested a hand on Keith’s shoulder, leaning closer and hoping to meet the other man’s eyes. Even a glimpse would be sufficient to get an indication of what was going on in Keith’s mind. After Shiro’s departure, Keith’s habits seemed to find a way to delve further and further into the realm of workaholic, pushing away sleep and leisure time in favor to constantly strive for a semblance of perfection with the music he created and performed. And, while the notion that Keith cared enough about his fans to want to deliver them the best performance he could manage was incredibly sweet and touching, ultimately, if the expense of that commitment was that Keith’s health would decline and he refused to spend any time focused on himself, Lance couldn’t support it.

“It’s just a cold or something, I’ll be fine.” Keith crumpled up the used tissue and tossed it into a pile with other matching ones. “I’ve performed on a fractured knee, this is nothing.”

Lance froze for a quick moment, blinking his eyes silently before pushing the topic further, “Hold up, you broke your knee and  _ still _ performed?!”

Keith nodded, slumping further into the couch. “I was doing a dance move during the  _ Bad Boyfriend Tour _ and fell onto my knees wrong and busted all the cartilage and fractured one of my knees. I finished the show with pure adrenaline, but my manager and label refused to cancel the tour. At that point, everyone wanted to see me dance like a whore, so he just started doping me up on pain pills so I could still do the dances.” He leaned his head back further. “If I could change one thing, it’d be that. I would’ve walked the fuck out.”

“Does… does that kind of thing happen a lot?”

Keith shrugged. “Depends on who you have on all your teams and label. I had a bunch of assholes. So, money was more important to them than my health. When Shiro and Matt worked with Daibazaal Records, Matt had appendicitis, and they wanted him to leave the hospital AMA to perform the show they had the next day. He ended up performing full length shows exactly a week after the surgery.”

“That’s messed up!” Lance exclaimed, “How can they treat another person like that?!”

Keith gave Lance another shrug. “It’s a cutthroat industry, and if your footing in it isn’t solid enough, you worry no one will work with you if you don’t cooperate. I mean, look at me. Everyone calls me difficult, because I won’t wear skimpy outfits for them anymore.”

“But you were on the top of the world with that album.  _ Bad Boyfriend _ topped charts for weeks straight and won a ton of awards. Why didn’t you just leave? Someone else was bound to sign you.” Lance insisted.

Keith sighed. “Contracts and all that.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Besides, this industry has a way of tearing apart the self esteem of young artists so they’re more malleable. Even the best of us get affected by it.”

Lance frowned. “Is everyone really that hellbent on getting money? That they’d intentionally do that?”

A harsh laugh escaped Keith. “They’re all assholes. That’s all you need to know. They’ll do anything if it means more money. Don’t think I don’t know who leaked the sex tape either. I know exactly who did it, and he did it because I threatened to leave the label, and if I left the label, they were going to lose money.”

“I…” Lance let his brain’s pleas for silence echo in his head, but once again, his mouth managed to ignore them, “Why did someone on your label have it?”

Keith froze, lips pressing together into a thin line and eyes going wide. The look was gone as soon as it arrived, leaving as soon as Keith removed his guitar from his lap and leaned it up against the interior of the bus. Slowly rising to his feet, he grabbed another tissue and blew his nose into it. “Where’s that cold medicine you wanted me to take?”

“Oh, uh,” Lance sprung off the couch, meeting Keith’s height. “I think I put it on the counter. Don’t worry, I can get it.”

“I’m sick, not immobile. I can get myself medicine.” Keith ambled over to the kitchenette, unscrewing the cap off the plastic bottle and pouring a small amount of the liquid into the provided cup. He downed it with a silent shudder and moved onto what Lance could only assume was Keith’s first priority, mixing another cup of coffee and booze.

“Hey, look,” Lance stepped closer to Keith, forcing himself into the other man’s line of sight, “I’m not here to talk about whether or not you should be drinking on tour or whatever, but alcohol dehydrates you. You need water to get better.”

Keith waved his hand dismissively, lifting the cup to his lips. “I’ve been sick on tour before. I’ll be fine.”

A frown etched itself onto Lance’s face. Resting a hand on Keith’s forearm, he continued, “If you don’t want to do it for yourself, then for your fans? You have a show tomorrow, and I’m sure they’d love to see you looking and sounding your best.” He slid his arm downward, fingers hooking with Keith’s own and thumb gliding over the skin. “Come on, it’ll do you some good.”

Keith’s eyes darted away, accompanied by his silence.

“We could cuddle and watch a movie?” Lance’s lips curled into a small smile. “You deserve to relax.”

Keith released a breath before he finally replied, “Okay. Just for a few hours.”

Lance stepped away and reached over to move the curtain in front of the hallway. “Get in bed, and I’ll grab the extra blankets from the bunks.”

Keith grabbed his guitar from it’s resting place and carefully laid it onto the couch before giving into Lance’s pleas and exiting the room with Kosmo trailing close behind.

There was a certain part about knowing the ins and outs of where Keith kept things that felt almost intimate. Being able to pick out where Keith kept things as simple as dog food and as extravagant as jewelry for piercings he never showed the world was like a connection that they shared, small little tidbits of their lives that weren’t open to the public. It was domestic, almost, how Lance could just reach over into a bunk, know what Keith kept in which ones, and pull out a set of blankets to accommodate Keith when the man needed some time to rest. Out of the millions of fans, followers, and other people invested in Keith’s life, so few got to say they’ve met him, and even fewer got to spend extended time with him, and here, Lance was able to navigate Keith’s temporary living space as if it also belonged to him.

Though, to be fair, it wasn’t as if Lance didn’t count as a temporary resident of the tour bus on his own.

He pulled the set of blankets into his arms and padded over into the bedroom. The messed comforter draped over Keith’s body as the subtle rise and fall of his chest accompanied the sight. Upon closer inspection, the shut eyelids and the softness of Keith’s face painted a true picture of an exhausted star who needed a few minutes to himself. Apparently, he was right when he said Keith needed some rest, because it only took a few minutes of being comfortable and surrounded by quiet for Keith to drift off.

A smile took over Lance’s lips, blue eyes softening alongside it. There was something so special about seeing Keith in such a position. Sure, he’d seen Keith asleep many times before, but often, the nights either ended up with little cracks in the mask Keith always seemed to keep, anxieties and other harsh emotions seeping out like a deteriorating dam, or with Keith disappearing completely at some point or another, spending the night doing anything but actually sleeping and giving himself the much needed rest his body craved. Seeing Keith like  _ this _ , so calm, so peaceful, was something much more than a treat, but something more in line with relief almost. Keith needed the moment to himself, needed the moment of silence in his surroundings and mind. If Keith couldn’t get the five minutes without cameras and reporters he always seemed to desperately ask for, at least he could get a few hours of decent, relaxing sleep.

He stepped closer, placing the stack of blankets on the empty side of the bed. One by one, he selected each blanket, opened it up and rested it over Keith, tucking the sides in around the other man as much as possible. With the last one sitting in front of him, he slipped under the covers and placed it over his own form.

There was no harm in keeping  _ one _ blanket for himself.

Keith’s hands stayed pressed between the plush pillows and his cheek, and the closer view brought the features of Keith’s face into focus. The calmness of his sleeping form was amplified by his jostled hair and the slight parting of his plump lips. Somehow, despite the sickness radiating from him, Keith was as alluring as ever.

Lance reached out his hand, fingers delicately brushing dark strands of hair away from Keith’s forehead before pressing his palm to the other man’s forehead, then the back of his hand. The heat radiating off Keith’s skin only served as yet another confirmation of Lance’s earlier suspicions, and honestly, it only made him more glad that Keith seemed to of passed out the moment his head hit the pillows. His hand unconsciously drifted down, knuckles grazing against Keith’s cheek tenderly, as his eyes found themselves locked on the same parted lips from earlier. There was an underlying urge to lean in and seal any remaining distance between them, though Lance could never complete such an action without Keith’s conscious approval.

Were those thoughts even right though? Keith always seemed to carry a level of exhaustion with people interested in being around him due to their perception of him being promiscuous and sexual. Did this make him just as bad as the photographer that wanted to put Keith in revealing clothing or the strangers on the internet who sent unsolicited sexually explicit comments on Keith’s social media? Here Keith was, doing Lance an amazing favor and giving him the opportunity of a lifetime, and all Lance could manage to do in return was begin to see Keith in the same exact way the other man dreaded.

He pulled his hand away, retracting his proximity and scooted to the other side of the bed, leaving ample space between them. It wasn’t fair to Keith to think of him like that. He needed to respect him.

Lance let out a long sigh. He needed a distraction. Anything to get his mind off of the spiraling thoughts in his head. He rose his phone in front of his face, unlocking it with his fingerprint and thumbing through his notifications, catching up on the info he’d missed over the last few hours.

He tapped open instagram, busying himself with the updates of people who he hadn’t spoken to since he graduated high school. Pictures of people he once knew getting married, attending graduate school, traveling the world, and everything in-between flooded his vision as he attempted to shut off the overthinking part of his brain. Though, a twinge of jealousy still overcame him. There was just something about watching people his age hitting life milestones that sent a certain feeling through his chest. Yeah, it was a good thing him and Jenny broke up in the long run, but the little voice in the back of his head still had a way of reminding him that he was without a love life, while she most definitely had one, and it had a mysterious way of bothering him. Months and months of missing her and knowing that she moved on so quickly was like a punch to the gut, planting the seeds of doubt that he was just plain undesirable to the majority of the world and feeding the idea that he made a mistake in not begging her to stay.

Blue eyes glanced over at Keith for a split second, then back to his phone. There was no way someone as famous and amazing as Keith would ever like him. He needed to give that one up quickly.

A notification appeared in the corner of his instagram dashboard. Tapping it, he skimmed the message he was sent. A name he didn’t recognize popped up and the message was not something he was either expecting or planning to read again.

Did someone just send him a hate message?

Did he post something wrong?

He quickly waded through his recent posts, a few with Keith and a few others of the places the duo had been during recent weeks. Nothing in his captions seemed as if it could come off as offensive towards anyone.

Another message entered his inbox.

And another.

He braced himself, tapping them both open individually. Each one contained content just as venomous as the first. As another one appeared, a sense of dejection shot through him, accompanied with a familiar pain in his chest.

What did he do wrong? Why did a bunch of random strangers suddenly hate him?

It clicked. Keith. He had Keith all over his instagram now just as the world was coming to their incorrect conclusions that they were dating.

Was that genuinely enough for a ton of people he’d never met to hate him? Yeah, he didn’t know if he’d be met favorably, but was he really going to be given comments with this much vitriol?

He quickly entered his instagram settings and changed the privacy settings. If they couldn’t access his instagram, they couldn’t know it was him that was on tour with Keith, right?

Kosmo lifted his head from its spot on the bedspread, gaze landing on Lance curiously, as if he could sense his distress. The eye contact lingered for another minute before Kosmo rose to his feet and padded across the comforter. He tentatively stuck out a paw, weighing it down gently on Lance’s arm before circling and plopping down next to the distressed man.

Lance ran his fingers through Kosmo’s thick fur. Something about his presence was calming, as if the mere act of petting him was enough to soothe the turbulent emotions building inside him. If Lance had known any better, he would’ve assumed Kosmo was a therapy dog with the way he just seemed to sense when things felt off. In fact, he’d seen Kosmo do it with Keith on several occasions, including rubbing up against Keith’s legs when Keith’s balance started to give and the man continued to insist on another few drinks. He’d heard of animals that just had that sixth sense, but to be honest, Lance wasn’t sure he’d actually met one yet.

It would be okay. He just had to ignore the negativity. Every other star did this, so could he. It’d go away like every other rumor.

He just had to treat it like high school. Rumors circulated then grew stale and got thrown out. The same would happen here. They’d forget about all of this and let him live his life again.

Right?

* * *

Attempting to ignore slews of angry messages from random strangers was  _ a lot _ harder than Keith made it look. Just as his brain would begin to stall the harsh thoughts that occupied it, something else would come along, a message or article, that sent him right back to the start. In truth, it was agony. And, to add icing to the disgusting cake, he had absolutely no means to defend himself without a platform. His only hope was that Keith would decide to take pity on him and defend him against the over the top fans plaguing his inbox.

His gaze drifted over towards Keith. The stunning purple eyes that adorned Keith’s face remained covered by his resting eyelids as his slightly parted lips accompanied them. The last couple hours were a series of Lance running his brain in circles, but the fact that Keith was finally getting some undisturbed, peaceful sleep was important enough that his issues could wait.

A banner notification entered the top of his screen.

_ Rachel: Are you okay? _

He read it over again. Then tapped out his response. Lying out his ass, of course.

In all fairness, what was he supposed to say? No? That he’s running himself in circles of pathetic anxiety? Or that he’s probably not cut out for the entertainment industry if something as stupid as this was bothering him? Yeah, Rachel was his twin sister, but there was still a part of Lance that didn’t want to admit to the fact that anything bothered him while he was out on the road. The last thing he needed was to provide an excuse for why he shouldn’t of ever left home in the first place and that the musician life was just too hard for him.

Did she even know what was going on? Yeah, she kept up with pop culture in extreme amounts, but it wasn’t like the behavior of these fans was going public, right?

The weight shifted on the mattress, the covers moving along with it. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Lance forced out, “Yeah, I’m fine. Go back to sleep. You need it.”

Keith let his eyes linger on Lance for a few moments before he pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Tell me what’s up.”

“I said I’m fine. Really.” Lance waved his hand dismissively.

“You don’t sound fine.” The grogginess of Keith’s voice was still evident.

Lance let out a sigh. “Fine. It’s nothing really. I’m just getting some messages from people who are mad, because they think we’re dating.”

The words went through Keith like a shot of espresso. Eyes wide and body tense, he leaned closer to Lance and attempted to steal a peak over the other man’s shoulder. “What are they saying?”

“Just nasty things.” Lance’s body deflated as he recalled the vitriol, “Stuff like how I could never deserve you, or that I’m ugly, or just anything mean they can think of.”

Keith took Lance’s phone from his hands, bringing the screen closer to his eyes and wading his way through the array of accumulating messages. With each tap of his thumb into a new message, his face twisted until he dropped Lance’s phone back into the other man’s lap and reached over for his phone. He unlocked it and swiped his way into Twitter. Moments later a tweet alert popped into Lance’s notification.

_ I’ve been informed of some downright cruel behavior from some of my fans towards a friend. I expected better from my fans, and I’m extremely disappointed to know this is happening. My friend deserves better from everyone, and neither of us have to confirm or deny rumors to expect that. _

__ __ _ I spend a lot of time working hard to give you all the best of the best, and I hope you can at least meet me halfway and let me and my friends have our personal lives without harassment. _

“I’m sorry, Lance.” Keith said, dropping his phone into the sea of messed sheets, “I have some of those types of fans. I’ve had people jump on rumors like these and harass James and Shiro or harass their partners when they date people, because they think we should date. It’s a huge mess, and I’m sorry you’re getting dragged into it.”

“Hey, don’t worry. It’s fine.” Lance forced a smile onto his face. “This is normal for the industry, right?”

“For me, yeah. Not for someone who hasn’t even performed his first show.” Keith coughed harshly a few times before continuing, “I didn’t even start getting it this bad until  _ Bad Boyfriend  _ came out. I’ll try to work with my PR team on getting you out of this, okay? You don’t deserve it.”

“Okay…” Lance’s voice trailed off. Yeah, Keith could do damage control now, but would it really fix anything? Those messages were probably right anyway. He didn’t deserve Keith at all. And, even if he did, it wasn’t as if Keith would ever see him in any other light than a friend anyway.

Keith frowned, lifting his hand to rest on Lance’s arm. “When I’m upset about things like this, I usually get it off my chest with songwriting.” He broke eye contact for a moment, then met Lance’s gaze again. “It might not help, but it’s worth trying.”

“I don’t know.” Lance sighed, “I kept thinking maybe it would help when my ex and I broke up, but I don’t know if it really did.”

Keith’s hand ran up Lance’s arm, fingers grazing across the soft exposed skin. “We could… maybe write one together? At least get your mind off everything.”

“You need to rest.” Lance replied firmly.

Keith rolled his eyes. “I won’t sing. I’ll even stay in bed.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Keith let out a dramatic sigh alongside his answer. “Hand me my keyboard.”

Lance gave him a pointed look. “Only if you’ll stay under the covers.”

“Fine.” Keith rolled his eyes again.

Lance wiggled out from under the weight of Kosmo’s muzzle and walked over to the other side of the tiny room. He picked the instrument up from where it leaned against the wall and handed it to Keith before grabbing one of the stray notebooks as he reclaimed his spot on the bed.

Keith pulled the keyboard onto his lap, shifting his position and sitting cross legged with his bottom half covered.

“Hey! You said you’d stay in bed.”

“I am.” Keith smirked, “You never said how much of me had to be in bed.”

“You’re impossible. How does Pidge deal with you?”

Keith shrugged. Leaning over towards Lance, he let his eyes lay on the notebook paper. “So, how do you usually start your songwriting process?”

Lance drummed his fingers against his thigh. “I usually just played around on my Mac until I got a beat I liked and continued from there.”

Keith bit his bottom lip lightly, eyes drifting away as he lost himself in contemplation. “What if I give you some instrumentals, you tell me what you like, and we go from there?”

“Okay.” Lance nodded.

“So, um, what type of vibe are you going for? Pop? Rock? Punk?” Keith asked, positioning his fingers over the keys and letting his gaze meet Lance’s.                     There was a certain excitement in Keith’s aura when he positioned his hands above his instrument, as if he couldn’t wait to play a new rhythm and create something new. In all honesty, the extra light in Keith’s eyes only made the experience of seeing him like this more special. And, if Lance was going to continue that honesty, Keith’s obvious love for the creation of music was extremely cute. Was he always like this when he got a chance to write? No one could blame Lance if he hoped Keith was, right? “You know me, I’m a pop princess.”

“You act like I’ve never written pop music before.” Keith laughed lightly.

“You  _ are _ known for being an unapologetic rocker. Not exactly a trend follower.”

“Can’t follow trends when you set them.” Keith answered, an aura of confidence in his words. Though, if Lance was in Keith’s shoes, he couldn’t say he would be any different. “White hair is literally in, because  _ I _ did it first when I was eighteen. Now Allura, Lotor, and Shiro all went white. Anyone who says I sold out is just mad I’m popular now.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Lance added a small laugh to his words.

“Good.” Keith pressed his fingers into the keys, releasing a poppy melody into the room as his lips curled into a smile. Despite the obvious sickness plaguing Keith’s mind and body, there was still an everlasting radiance to him once he picked up an instrument, as if music was some sort of healing entity. “Tell me what to change if you don’t like it…. Or you could throw out any lyrics you think of. Whatever works.”

He glanced at the notebook in his lap, tapping the pencil eraser against the paper. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth he asked, “Can… can I write them down first? Then show you?”

A warm smile spread over Keith’s features. That soft look had to be illegal, right? There was no way that Keith was just allowed to be that perfect. “Yeah, whatever you need.”

Lance leaned closer to Keith until they were touching, his own shoulder resting against Keith’s. He hummed a few tunes and words to himself, letting the combination of Keith’s instrumentals and his own ideas process in his brain.

He scribbled down a few words, rearranging them a few times until they began to sound okay in his head. Tilting his head towards Keith, he turned the paper towards his companion.

_ Yeah, we the word out on the streets _

__ __ _ They talk, talk, talk about you and me _

__ __ _ Let’s start some rumors, rumors _

Keith’s lips parted into a toothy smile, his eyes lighting up as he hummed the lyrics back to himself. “Sing it.”

“What?”

“Sing it. I’ll play for you.” Keith repeated, nodding encouragingly.

“A-are you sure?” There was no way Keith was already this excited about some lyrics he threw together in a few minutes. He was just being polite, right?

“Of course I am.” Keith moved his fingers to float over the keys again, “I have an idea.”

Lance flicked his eyes up to meet Keith’s own. “Promise you won’t laugh if I mess up?”

Keith frowned, face falling and excitement visibly leaving his body. “Do you… do you um, really think I’m like that?”

“No!” Lance blurted out, dropping the notebook and waving his hands in front of himself frantically, “Not at all!”

Keith sighed, eyes falling to the pattern on his comforter. He pushed the keyboard off his lap and leaned against the headboard. “Look, I get it.”

A tone of desperation entered Lance’s voice as he rested a hand on Keith’s arm, “Keith, Keith no, it’s not that at all, I promise.”

“I know there’s a lot of shit about me out there. But a lot of it isn’t true, okay?” Keith said, “I’m just in it at this point for the music and my fans. I don’t care about the money. I’m not judging anyone. I just like making music. I don’t want you thinking I brought you on this tour for anything in return. I’m not doing it to laugh at you or to get your hopes up. I genuinely want to help you.”

“I believe you.” Lance insisted. He lowered his hand from Keith’s arm to lock their fingers together. “And I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you.”

Keith refused to look up. “I’m sorry I just got like that. I need to work on it.”

“It’s okay.” Lance gave Keith’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Let’s do something else. Wanna watch a movie?”

Keith leaned into Lance’s body. “Movie sounds nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I was going to write all the lyrics myself, but I was listening to that song while writing and it fit so well and I couldn't resist.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feel free to message me on [Tumblr](https://imaginationcubed.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/imaginationcubd/)!


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